


Lifeline

by sunidelphia



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anxiety, Canon-Typical Behavior, Internalized Homophobia, Lesbian Dee, M/M, Post-Season/Series 11, Religious Guilt, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-01-05 12:00:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18365576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunidelphia/pseuds/sunidelphia
Summary: When Mac begins coming to terms with his sexuality, the anxiety attacks seem impossible to deal with alone. In his time of need, he calls the only person he thinks can help him: his ex-girlfriend, Carmen. To help Mac calm down, she starts reading her son's stories to him over the phone. After all these years, he might be ready to grow.





	1. Chapter 1

The sound of a phone vibrating angrily pulled Carmen back into the waking world. She glanced at Nick’s sleeping form beside her and turned to get a better look at the clock on her bedside table.

_2:44 am? Who in their right mind—_

She paused as she recognized the contact picture of the man glaring at her from her screen, sunlight glinting off slicked back hair. The phone still vibrating as she picked it up, Carmen swung a leg out of bed and got up as she answered the call.

“Mac? Is this a wrong number, why are you call—”

“Carmen? Carmen, are you there?” She winced as she lowered the phone from her ear a bit. “ _Carmen_ , I really need to talk to you right now. It’s _urgent_ …” Mac hissed through the receiver.

Carmen rubbed her eye and quietly shuffled out into the hall, closing the bedroom door behind her. “Yeah Mac, I’m here. Just give me a sec, I don’t want to wake up Nick or Gavin.” Ducking into the bathroom, she flicked the light on and shut the door. “Mac, are you okay? What’s the emergency?”

She heard a small giggle through the line. “Listen – I think I might be gay. No wait, I probab- I am most definitely very very gay,” Mac gasped and laughed again.

“Mac, how much have you had to drink? Because if this is your idea of a prank call—”

“No, no, no,” Mac interrupted. “I really am gay. I am also very smashed, but my mind is sober. My mind is sober!”

“Then what’s the emergency, I don’t see how –” She paused. “Actually, why are you calling _me_? Shouldn’t you be telling this to Dennis or any of your other friends?”

“Dennis? No, I definitely cannot tell Dennis, he’d freak out,” he retorted, pausing to burp a little. “I can’t tell any of them, because they don’t get it. You get it though, you’re gay.”

“Mac, being trans and being gay are not the same thing.”

“Whatever, it’s all part of the same BLT… LTG… that stuff. So you can help me.”

“Help you how?” Carmen asked hesitantly, fidgeting with one of the towels on the rack.

Mac sighed, exasperated. “Well obviously, the gang is going to hate me and kick me out when they find out, and Dennis won’t want to live with me anymore now that I’m into dudes—”

“Whoa, stop!” Carmen gasped. “You think your friends are going to… Mac, they are not going to kick you out of your group, let alone evict you from your apartment! Is that what’s bothering you?”

Mac fell silent. In the distance, she could hear the rumble of trains rolling slowly on metal tracks. Leaning forward, she pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Mac, where are you right now?”

“I’m… Delaware River,” he managed.

“And what are you doing at the rail yards down by the river?”

“Was… looking for a sign,” he said quietly. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to do, especially since we almost died yesterday. But I think I’m too drunk to pray, cause it’s not working. So I called you cause you can help me.”

Carmen sat on the edge of the bathtub, switching her phone to her other ear. “Hang on, you almost _died_ yesterday?”

“Yeah, we were drowning on a cruise ship and I thought God didn’t exist cause He made me queer and God doesn’t make mistakes like that, but then He saved us so He does exist, but I still like dudes and I can’t tell my friends cause they—”

“Mac, slow down!” She paused to take a breath. “Obviously, you’ve experienced a tremendous amount of trauma. It sounds like this ordeal has been putting your emotions under a lot of stress.”

Mac’s tone brightened on the other end. “Yeah, that must be it! Of course, I’m not really gay. It’s just my emotions stressing me out and tricking me. Either way, it’s a good thing I told the gang I was straight the whole time. Wouldn’t want to confuse them.” He laughed.

“No Mac, that’s not what I meant—”

“That’s okay!” Mac interjected. “I don’t need your help anymore, I feel way better now. And forget what I said before, I am _definitely_ not into dudes.”

Carmen sat in shock as the line went dead and her phone returned to its home screen. She sighed and clicked the light off, returning to her room. She slowly lifted the corner of the comforter and eased in, setting her phone back on the nightstand. Beside her, Nick stirred awake with a grunt.

“Hun, who was that?”

She turned to face her husband and reached out to rest her hand on his arm. “Just a wrong number, babe. I think it was a pocket dial.”

Nick raised an eyebrow, turning back on his side. “If you say so…” he mumbled, already dozing off again.

It took much longer for her to join him in his sleep.

***

Carmen stepped out of the gym into the morning sun. In her bag, her phone buzzed.

**Mac**  
_Did I call you last night or is my phone making that up?_

She lifted her gaze, noticing two seagulls fighting over a granola bar wrapper in the parking lot.

**Carmen**  
_You did, you were very drunk._

**Carmen**  
_Do you remember anything?_

She watched as the three dots appeared for a while before disappearing again. She reached out to put her phone back in her bag but was cut off by an incoming text.

**Mac**  
_Nothing at all. Guess I can’t handle my tequila as well as I used to, lol_

Carmen sighed and slid her phone into the gym bag, shaking her head and tried to put the interaction behind her.

***

A few weeks passed. Carmen had nearly forgotten the incident entirely until it was late Sunday night and her phone was buzzing again. She groaned as she leaned over to check the phone screen. A familiar face stared back. She climbed out of bed and softly stepped into the hall.

“Mac, this has to stop. You can’t keep waking me up like this when you’re drunk,” Carmen whispered.

She was met with silence. A quiet sniff.

“Hey Mac, are you okay?”

“… It’s not going away, is it.”

She leaned against the bannister at the top of the stairs. “What isn’t going away?”

“This… thing inside me,” Mac hesitated. “Don’t make me say it, I know you know what I mean.”

She bit her lip, considering her words carefully. “I do, Mac. And no, I’m afraid it doesn’t go away. No matter how hard you try.”

“D-did you ever try to just… you know, ignore it?”

Mac was ready to listen, she realized. She made her way downstairs and settled into the living room couch, tossing a blanket over her legs and clicking on a nearby lamp. “I did, but it never worked. It just ended up causing me more pain.”

“What happened?”

“Well, I was denying who I was to myself. There’s no way I could be happy if I kept pretending to be someone I wasn’t, especially if I was lying to myself.”

“So, what did you do?”

“I was severely depressed,” Carmen admitted. “I didn’t know how my family would take it if I came out to them, so I waited until I left for college to live as who I was meant to be. And when I did,” she exhaled. “It was like the window was open and I could see the world for the first time. And the world was seeing me.”

Another sniff. “But what did your family say when you told them?”

A moment of hesitation. “They didn’t take it well at first. It was the mid-nineties after all, and they had just found out their son had been a daughter all along.”

“So it would have been better to just never tell them the truth?”

“No, absolutely not!” She ran her fingers through her blonde curls, loosening one of the tighter strands. “They just needed time to learn. It took a while and some difficult holiday gatherings, but they were getting to know a side of me I had never felt safe sharing with them. It actually helped us become closer, those conversations were the first time my parents and I talked as adults. We were able to open up to each other.” She let her hand fall to her lap, remembering the years of slamming doors and angry tears that marked her early twenties.

Mac went quiet, pondering her words for a moment. “So, I should tell them?”

“When you’re ready and you feel safe,” she replied.

“What if I’m never ready?”

Carmen opened her mouth and paused, not sure how to answer. She heard Mac sigh on the other side of the call. “Carmen… Can you just stay here for a while?” he asked, yawning.

“Like, come get you? I don’t know where—”

“No, just on the phone. I don’t want to go to bed yet.”

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from yawning. What time was it anyway? “Sure Mac, I can stay here.”

They sat for a few minutes in silence, listening to each other breathe. Mac groaned as he stretched out on his couch. The sniffing hadn’t stopped, and his breaths were still coming too quickly and unevenly. Looking around the dimly lit living room, Carmen spotted something that gave her an idea.

“Hey Mac, are you still there?”

“… Yeah.”

“How about I read to you? Gavin left some books on the coffee table.”

“Sure,” he replied, yawning again.

She nodded, leaning over to grab her son’s copy of _The Very Hungry Caterpillar_. She opened the thick cardboard cover and settled back into the cushions of the couch.

“‘In the light of the moon,’” she began, “‘a little egg lay on a leaf.’” Through the phone, Mac sighed deeply.

“Do you know this one, Mac?” She asked gently.

“Nah, I didn’t read when I was a kid. Just screwed around with Charlie and threw rocks at trains and shit.”

“Your parents never read to you?”

Mac laughed softly. “No, no… They both had work, so they didn’t have time to read. We didn’t have any books either, so that would’ve made it hard to read too. We’re not nerds, y’know.”

Carmen paused a moment, trying to picture Mac as a young child. Searching for some kind of love. She continued reading, using the same intonations as when she read to Gavin. “‘One Sunday morning the warm sun came up and – pop! – out of the egg came a tiny and very hungry caterpillar.’”

She waited a moment before turning the page with her left hand, balancing the book on her knees. “‘He started to look for some food. On Monday he ate through one apple. But he was still hungry.’”

Mac’s breathing had slowed considerably, maintaining a soft and steady rhythm. He listened quietly as she continued through the rest of the week, adding to the ever-growing list of fruits consumed by the insatiable caterpillar. As she described the mountain of food it ate on Saturday, he snorted.

“That is one hungry-ass bitch of a caterpillar.”

Carmen laughed. “I guess it is. Although, ‘That night he had a stomach-ache!’”

She could hear Mac’s grin through the phone. “Serves him right.”

She chuckled again. “‘The next day was Sunday again. The caterpillar ate through one nice green leaf, and after that he felt much better.’”

“Jesus, he’s still eating?” he exclaimed.

She turned the page and laughed as she saw the drawing of an extremely rotund caterpillar. “’Now he wasn’t hungry any more – and he wasn’t a little caterpillar any more. He was a big, fat caterpillar.’”

“Well, yeah! He’s eaten through the entire produce section of a grocery store and picked up some snacks at the cake and meat counter too.”

Carmen smiled to herself, hearing Mac echo Gavin’s thoughts from the previous night’s bedtime story. “We’re almost done. ‘He built a small house, called a cocoon, around himself. He stayed inside for more than two weeks. Then he nibbled a hole in the cocoon, pushed his way out and…’” Carmen stretched out the word as she turned the final page. “‘He was a beautiful butterfly!’”

She closed the book and listened to Mac’s quiet breathing for moment. “Is that the end?” he asked, stifling a yawn.

Carmen sighed. “Yes, that’s the end.”

The silence opened up between them, empty. Finally, Mac blew his nose and asked softly. “Do you think the butterfly’s friends will still like him even though he’s not a caterpillar anymore?”

“Of course they will,” she replied, closing her eyes. “He’s the still the same friend that was there the whole time, making memories with them. The memories aren’t gone because he got his wings.”

He considered that for a second. “His wings.” He chuckled. “I like that.”

After another moment of silence, Carmen glanced up at the clock on the wall. _4:07 a.m._ “Mac, I have to wake up in two hours to bring Gavin to kindergarten. Are you going to be okay if I go to bed now?”

Carmen heard what she thought was a faint snore and a soft grunt. “Huh? Yeah, I’ll be good. I just need to… mmm- uh, get to bed.”

“Alright, good night Mac.”

“Mmm… g’night.”

Smiling to herself, she ended the call and tossed the blanket aside before heading back upstairs. Carefully trying to avoid waking her husband, Carmen flinched when the bed squeaked under her weight. Nick opened one eye, noticing her sneaking back into bed. “Another wrong number?” he asked, sarcasm tinting his inflection.

“Something like that,” she mumbled as she draped an arm over Nick’s larger frame. She tried in vain to quiet her thoughts. All she could picture was a small boy in an empty house, surrounded by nothingness.

***

The sound of the alarm clock filled the room as morning light filtered in through the sheer curtains. Carmen reached over to shut off the shrieking buzzer and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She held her head in her hands and groaned. Taking a few seconds to breathe before standing, she headed into the shower to get ready for whatever the day might bring.

Forty-five minutes later, she was joined downstairs by Nick, who somehow looked as dishevelled as she felt. He noticed her cup of coffee. “Make some for me, hun?”

Carmen gestured towards the half-full coffee pot on the counter, glancing back down to her phone. She wasn’t even registering what she was reading, some article from a mommy blog that contained too much judgment for her liking. She shook her head and opened her Instagram instead.

Nick pulled a chair out of the table and sat down across from her, taking a sip from his mug before setting it down. “You would tell me if I should be worried about those late-night phone calls, right?”

Carmen smiled, grateful for his concern. “Babe, you don’t have to worry.” She reached across the table to grab his hands. He smiled back, slightly reassured.

Her phone buzzed, a text notification.

**Mac**  
_thx_

A small smile broke across her face. She couldn’t remember Mac ever thanking her for anything, let alone did she think he’d acknowledge what he had shared last night.

“Okay, I gotta know,” Nick said, almost exasperated. “Is that them? Is that who’s been calling?”

Carmen set her phone back on the table and licked the coffee off her teeth. “Yeah, that was him.”

He looked at her expectantly. “And?”

“Babe… Do you remember Mac?”

He smacked the table and raised himself halfway out of his chair. “That fucker? What is he tryin—”

“No, babe, it’s fine!” She quickly reassured him. “He’s been going through a really tough time and he just needed some advice.”

“Advice?” He raised an eyebrow.

“On living… authentically,” she replied. Her husband flashed her a knowing glance and returned to his coffee.

“Good for him,” he said after a pause.

Carmen smiled again, turning to look over her shoulder as Gavin came barrelling down the stairs into the kitchen. It might turn out to be a better day than she had expected, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This project started as a way to get creative in the winter months and to reflect a lot on my own coming out experience, but it's turned into a much bigger project. Updates will be regular at first, since I have the first four chapters already written, but I'm starting an accelerated teaching degree in the summer and I can't see myself having much time to write. Anyway, enjoy what's here!
> 
> [its-always-philly-in-sunidelphia](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/its-always-philly-in-sunidelphia) on Tumblr


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac struggled to breathe evenly. His heart hadn’t yet calmed down. His hand started twitching, so he passed the phone to the other ear. “This isn’t working, can you do something else?”
> 
> He heard Carmen shuffle around on her end of line. “Let’s see… I could read to you again.”
> 
> “Sure,” he grunted in response.
> 
> “Okay, we got a cookbook, the yellow pages for some reason, the book I read to Gavin before he went to bed, a flyer from the community centre and a swimming camp application form. Any preference?”
> 
> “Kid’s book is fine,” he said, his voice cracking. “What’s it called?”
> 
> “ _Love You Forever_ , it’s by Robert Munsch,” she responded. “It’s about a mother who sings to her son as he grows up, it’s really beautiful.”

Mac blinked and let his eyes adjust to the orange light of the street lamps, hearing the door swinging closed behind him. He wiped the sweat off his palms on his sleeveless shirt, his hand grazing past a small tear in the seam. He made a mental note to give it to Charlie to get it mended, despite knowing full well he wouldn’t be remembering much of anything the following morning.

Behind him, the deep bass of the pop music continued to rage, causing the nearby fire escape ladder to rattle slightly against the brick wall. Brightly coloured lights flashed around on the ground, sneaking through the crack under the door frame and bleeding onto the pavement. Mac glanced back at the exit, startled by a sudden whooping cheer inside the bar. He shook his head slightly, trying to sober up a little as he attempted to remember the way home. Or what he was doing here. How had he ended up at a gay bar in the first place?

Brief flashes of memories resurfaced rapidly. Dennis stumbling home with a girl. Escalating voices. A ladle thrown across the living room. Mac storming out. Wandering. Loud music. A charming bartender. Prolonged eye contact. So blue. Hands and lips. He was—

Mac stopped, distracting himself with a passing stray cat before he could remember the rest of his night. He had made a huge mistake by coming here, of all places. He was slipping, he should have known better. Turning to face the brick wall, he pressed his forearms into the rough texture of the stone, feeling the rugged edges scratch at his skin. He clenched his jaw and rested his forehead against the brick. He took a deep breath, roared through gritted teeth and pounded the wall with his fist. He flinched as he pulled his hand back, inspecting the flecks of blood that were appearing along the side. Good. This is what he deserved.

Steadying himself, Mac turned back toward the street. As he began the walk home, he told himself the tears burning in his eyes were a reflex from the pain. Nothing more.

It was a challenge to slide the key into the lock. After a few attempts, the door finally swung open and Mac stepped into the apartment. Removing his combat boots, he noticed there were no unfamiliar pairs of shoes on the mat. So Dennis had already kicked the poor girl out. He scoffed. Typical.

He flicked on the kitchen light and reached into the cupboard to grab what was left of the whiskey. Held up to the light, the golden brown shone almost as if it were high-quality. He snorted at the thought and unscrewed the top, taking a hearty swig. The all too familiar burn felt more like home than this apartment did tonight.

The stinging on his hand brought Mac back from his reverie, who realized he should probably take care of the bleeding. Not letting go of the bottle, he slid open one of the doors into the bedroom. Dee and the old man were nowhere in sight. Only Dennis’ thin frame occupied the massive bed, swallowing him whole and making him look much smaller than he had just hours ago. Mac’s gaze lingered on him a little longer. If Dennis was awake, he wasn’t letting it show.

Mac turned away and slipped into the bathroom, checking behind the mirror for bandages. Instead, he was met with an assorted collection of face creams and a wall of orange bottles. He reached his hand out, paused, then let it drop. _Idiot_. This is not what he needed right now.

Finding nothing to treat his cuts, he opted to run his hand under cold water, wincing as the water hit the fresh wounds. The sink was turning a soft shade of orange. He threw his head back as he lightly scrubbed his hand with soap, sighing as the water brought the memories from the night with it down the drain. He turned the tap off finally and took another drink from the bottle. Satisfying.

He paused before leaving the bathroom. Squaring his shoulders, he stared at his reflection. The portrait of a broken man. His dark hair, no longer slicked back with several handfuls of gel, was looking on the fluffier side. Mussed up by the hands that had run through it earlier in the night. Leaning in closer to the mirror, he tilted his head to the side to inspect his temple. Some grey was starting to spread slowly, remarkably late for a man pushing forty. Glitter splashed across his cheekbones in a cheap imitation of the freckles that lied beneath it. Dark circles under his eyes. Sweat glistened along his hairline. He looked like absolute shit.

Mac scowled at his reflection and shut the light as he stormed off to the living room, sliding the door closed behind him. He didn’t give a shit anymore if he woke Dennis up. All that mattered was getting enough whiskey in his system so he wouldn’t have to deal with his paralyzing shame tomorrow morning. _Stuff it down with brown_ , as Frank often said. Mac silently cursed his Catholic upbringing, a slight twinge of guilt setting in immediately after. At least today was over. No more potential for mistakes.

Letting out a deep sigh, he fell onto the couch. He tried to ignore the memories that were bubbling back up to the surface, what he and Dennis had done together on that same couch. He gripped the neck of the bottle tighter and lifted it to his lips. Not enough yet.

He reached for the phone in his back pocket and sank further into the couch. Absentmindedly scrolling through Instagram, he passed by a dozen photos of shirtless fitness bloggers all trying for the angle that would show off their well-defined abs, contorting themselves into truly unnatural stances. Normally, he would spend hours poring over these photos and analyzing every detail. Telling himself it was to get workout tips. Tonight, he was too tired to keep up the charade.

Mac put the phone down on the coffee table next to him. Closing his eyes, he tried willing himself to sleep. When that attempt failed, he took another drink from the nearly empty bottle. Only a few mouthfuls left, he noticed. Mac set the bottle on the floor, bringing his arm back up to run through his hair, breaking up some of the last pieces still stuck together by the product he had applied that morning.

Soon, it would be morning again. Mac checked his watch. _3:23 a.m._ Another night when sleep would fail him. Another night alone with his thoughts, these mental attacks that jabbed and tore at his spirit for hours and hours. Another night when he would give up and let himself be overwhelmed. It was easier to feel the pain than to fight it. Easier to accept that he was a worthless piece of shit on an express train to Hell. Easier to accept that his parents had never loved him. He only had enough strength in the daytime for this much denial.

Mac lay on the couch, motionless. Trapped in the physical world while his consciousness was falling and flying, flashes of memories and darkness all at once. The weird looks Charlie would give him when he and Dennis did something to suggest they were more than just best friends. Raised voices and smashing downstairs while he tried to sleep. Emptiness. Watching his cousin Brett be mocked and beaten at school and doing nothing but laugh. So utterly alone. His father’s face, inches from his own, threatening to kill him. Every Sunday, the priest reaching into Mac’s soul and crushing his heart as he sat helplessly in the pew. Dennis’ eyes, the colour of an ocean he could drown in.

Breathing heavily, he rubbed his face with both hands, surprised to find them wet as he pulled them back. He rubbed them on his sleeveless shirt, but only succeeded in spreading the glitter from his face to his clothing. That shit never went away.

Mac sat up and put his elbows on his knees, holding his face in his hands. _In – 2, 3, 4, 5 – Out – 2, 3, 4, 5_. His heart was still racing. He was too far gone for breathing exercises now. Mac focussed on his feet. He pressed his sock feet down into the floor, grounding himself. _This is real. I am still. I am not moving. The world is in its place._ He inhaled deeply and felt his breath flutter. His heart was still racing. He brought his hands down and opened his palms. Sweat, tears and glitter were smudged across his shaking fingers. The visual reminder of his night pulled him back under and Mac choked as the wave of his failures crashed over him with a deafening roar.

Gasping for breath, Mac reached for his phone. Quickly scrolling through his contacts, he grew more desperate as he realized how few names were there. Dennis was the one he always turned to, but he wouldn’t let himself do that when they were supposed to be fighting. There was no way he would wake Dennis up like this.

Mac scrolled back up to the top of the list, pausing as he reached the Cs. It wasn’t until he had brought the phone to his ear and was hearing the dial tone that he realized what he had done. He silently prayed she wouldn’t pick up at this ridiculous hour so he wouldn’t have to relive the evening through this conversation again, but he made no move to hang up. His head was still swimming from the liquor and the onslaught of colours behind his eyes.

“Hey Mac, are you alright?”

“H-, Car-, get – I can’t—”

“Mac? Mac! Do you need me to call an ambulance?”

“N-no. Anxiety. Need to calm down.” Mac gasped again, choking on his breath. “J-just talk to me.”

“Uh, just anything?”

“Yeah, whatever. W-what did you today?”

“Okay well, I woke up at 5:30 and went for a run before breakfast. Nick made us pancakes and Gavin made a mess with the maple syrup, but we cleaned it up. Then, we went to the farmer’s market. It’s Gavin’s favourite thing to do on Saturdays. He loves stopping by all the plant vendors and learning about all the different types of plants. I’m convinced he’ll either become a botanist or a gardener one day, it’s precious. Anyway, we bought lunch from a sandwich stand and had a picnic in the park. Gorgeous day for it too, the sky was so blue today… Did you get out at all today, Mac?”

“Yeah, very blue,” Mac replied through gritted teeth, breathing still laboured. “Jus’… keep going.”

“Alright, so we ran some errands for a while. I swear Gavin’s the fastest growing kid in Philly, I’ve had to buy him new shoes every six months. And of course, he wanted the light-up ones, but Nick talked him down to the pair with the racing cars on them. He’s so good with Gavin, sometimes I wonder how he has so much patience for him. I love our son and I could never thank Dee enough for having carried him for us, but five-year-old boys really are fantastic at testing your limits.” She laughed.

Mac struggled to breathe evenly. His heart hadn’t yet calmed down. His hand started twitching, so he passed the phone to the other ear. “This isn’t working, can you do something else?”

He heard Carmen shuffle around on her end of line. “Let’s see… I could read to you again.”

“Sure,” he grunted in response.

“Okay, we got a cookbook, the yellow pages for some reason, the book I read to Gavin before he went to bed, a flyer from the community centre and a swimming camp application form. Any preference?”

“Kid’s book is fine,” he said, his voice cracking. “What’s it called?”

“ _Love You Forever_ , it’s by Robert Munsch,” she responded. “It’s about a mother who sings to her son as he grows up, it’s really beautiful.”

He listened for a moment while she grabbed the book from the coffee table and settled back into the couch. His heart had migrated into his throat, its vibrations sending tremors down his neck into his spine.

“All right, here we are,” said Carmen as she flipped open the first page. “’A mother held her new baby and very slowly rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And while she held him, she sang: I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, As long as I’m living my baby you’ll be.”

Mac ground his palm into his knee, inhaling sharply. He kept his eyes closed, concentrating on the soft voice singing to him. The melody was beautiful, but the lyrics poked something inside him.

She continued. “’The baby grew. He grew and he grew and he grew. He grew until he was two years old, and he ran all around the house.’”

Images flashed behind Mac’s eyes. He was five, running down the street at top speed. His new best friend from kindergarten, Charlie, was trailing a little behind him. They climbed the only tree on the block and yelled at the pedestrians passing by from the top of their castle.

“’But at night time, when that two-year-old was quiet, she opened the door to his room, crawled across the floor, looked up over the side of his bed; and if he was really asleep she picked him up and rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. While she rocked him she sang: I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, As long as I’m living my baby you’ll be.’”

Mac’s face twisted into a grimace. He tried to block the memories, but they flooded him too quickly. His mother smoked in her armchair, watching the television with narrow eyes. His arm hurt. Looking down, there was a massive hand gripping his bicep. A voice barked at him to look it in the eyes. Those cold blue eyes, never blinking. The voice had slicked back hair and tattoos on its face and neck.

“’… and he grew and he grew. He grew until he was nine years old. And he never wanted to come in…’”

Mac was nine. The voice was glaring at him through the window of the cop car. A hand clenched around his heart. The car was driving away now and he was breathing deeply again. Beside him, Charlie reached up to put an arm around his shoulder. The wind was blowing sand into his eyes, that’s why they were stinging. His mother was still inside.

“’… while she rocked him she sang: I’ll love you forever…’”

Mac was eleven. The house was quiet, except for the forced laughter of the television. Charlie was in his room and he was pouring more glue into a paper bag. The room was spinning. He thought he heard the voice behind him and he jumped. Charlie asked him what was wrong.

“’… until he was a teenager. He had strange friends and he wore strange clothes and he listened to strange music. Sometimes the mother…’”

Mac was fifteen. The voice had come and gone again, just like last time. His mom never spoke to him, was rarely home. He had new friends at school, they smoked under the bleachers together. But one was different. He had eyes like an ocean and a laugh that made something in Mac melt every time he heard it. And sometimes it was just the two of them and he hoped that something would happen, desperately tried to get closer.

“’… always, As long as I’m living my baby you’ll be. That teenager grew. He grew and he grew and he grew. He grew until he was a grown-up man. He left home…’”

Mac was twenty-two. He was in a bar laughing and drinking with his friends. Their bar. Dennis was behind the counter pouring a beer. He passed it to Mac and for a moment, their fingers overlapped. Their gaze met. There was no ice in the blue of his eyes, only the warmth of friendship. Or was it...? That night had been sealed with a kiss in their shared apartment. Not the first, certainly not the last. But a meaningful one, nonetheless.

“’… side of his bed. If that great big man was really asleep she picked him up and rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And while she rocked him she sang: I’ll love you forever…’”

Mac was twenty-nine. There was a sign from God in the bar and he had never felt stronger in his faith. When he had came home, Dennis was lying on the bathroom floor, barely conscious. He had muttered something about fasting and a fat face. Mac had sat on the floor behind him and held him for what seemed like hours, feeding him a little bit at a time until he had seen some colour return to Dennis’ cheeks. They had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, soft curls pressed against Mac’s neck. In that moment, Mac had been glad Dennis couldn’t see him cry.

“’… my baby you’ll be. Well, that mother got older. She got older and older and older. One day she called up her son and said, “You’d better come see me because I’m very old and sick.” So her son came to see her.’”

Mac was thirty. The voice was back, was in his bar. It had been so long, they were different people. Mac was excited to help the voice, to mend the past between them. But then, it had all unravelled and he was the reason the voice was being taken away again. The voice that now promised to kill him. The car drove away, and Mac felt a familiar relief set in again.

“’…I’ll like you for always… But she couldn’t finish because she was too old and sick. The son went to his mother. He picked her up and rocked her back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And he sang this song: I’ll love you forever, I’ll like for always, As long as I’m living my Mommy you’ll be.’”

Mac was thirty-three. His mother could have died in that fire. He could have lost her forever. She hadn’t seemed to care if she had lived or died. She still never spoke to him. She had still never told him she loved him. He had inferred it a few times, but he now realized how foolish he had been. Whoever she was, it was a shell of who she used to be. If she had ever been someone at all.

“’When the son came home that night, he stood for a long time at the top of the stairs. Then he went into the room where his very new baby daughter was sleeping. He picked her up in his arms and very slowly rocked her…’”

Mac was holding a baby. It was asleep, swaddled in a blanket covered in cartoon penguins. Sunshine overtook Mac’s heart as he looked longingly at this unknown child. He felt an arm drape across his shoulders and turned to see who was there. Ocean eyes filled with sunshine met his gaze and returned his smile.

“’…forever, I’ll like you for always, As long as I’m living my baby you’ll be.’”

The final notes of Carmen’s song echoed through the tiny speaker pressed to Mac’s ear. He sat frozen in shock as the memories ripped through his mind. Pain in his knee brought him back to the physical world, causing him to notice he was digging into his knee with a white-knuckled grip. He let go and tried to smooth the fabric of his navy pants with a shaky hand.

Carmen cleared her throat. “So Mac, did you like the story?”

Mac felt himself fill with rage, his eyes flashing red. “Did I… like it?” he responded through gritted teeth. “No Carmen, I didn’t like your goddamn story. Parents sneaking into their kids’ rooms at night to sing creepy-ass songs while they’re asleep? Is that supposed to be so goddamn adorable I look past it?”

She was taken aback. “Wow, okay. This is a little surprising. What is this really about, Mac?”

He rose violently off the couch. “Oh, you want to know what this is really fucking about? What do you want to hear, Carmen?” Mac yelled into the phone. “That I was raised by a mother who never loved me? That my dad scared the living shit out of me so much I was glad when he was in jail? Is that real enough for you Carmen? Is that fucking real enough for you?”

She stayed quiet for a bit. “Mac, you’re not being yourself right now.”

He laughed. “Not myself? Goddamn it, this is the realest I’ve ever been. At least I’m being honest with myself right now, Jesus Christ! Welcome to the shitshow, Carmen! Come see a grown man cry over a fucking kid’s book cause his mommy didn’t read to him. Fuck you.”

“You know what, Mac? I give up. I’m going to bed, this is obviously not worth the hours of sleep I’ve already lost over you.”

“Oh sure, go back to your fat fucking husband and your perfect little kid. Does he even know he has two dads? Or did you lie to him and tell him you had him like all the normal kids in his class?”

“Fuck you, Mac. That’s crossing a line.” The line went dead.

Seething with rage, Mac threw his phone into the couch and brought his foot angrily against the floor. He yelled when he felt the crunch of glass under his heel. The empty whiskey bottle was shattered, some of the sticky remains now mixing with the blood oozing out of his sock. Fighting the urge to tear off his foot, Mac limped over to the kitchen to remove the bloody sock and wash his foot in the sink with soap and water. He managed to remove the larger pieces of glass wedged in his skin but couldn’t be bothered to treat the entire wound. He would feel the pain again in the morning. A just punishment for his failings tonight.

Searching through the kitchen cabinets, Mac pulled out an orange bottle from the top shelf. “Do not mix with alcohol”, the label read. _Whatever, it’s not like it’s gonna kill me_. He returned to the small couch, stretching out as much as he could. He pulled a greasy blanket over himself and started to drift away on the wings of the medication. No more looking back, today was finally over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! I'll try to keep to a weekly schedule for the next few weeks, but I'm moving at the end of the month and going back to school, so we'll see what happens.
> 
> [its-always-philly-in-sunidelphia](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/its-always-philly-in-sunidelphia) on Tumblr


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey assface, got any news?” Dee called out to him. Dennis, Charlie and Frank were locked in a heated discussion.
> 
> “No, why would I have news?” Mac replied.
> 
> Dee shrugged. “Figured you might have some juicy info. Dennis said you went out last night.”

Mac awoke to the sounds of Steve Winwood and running water. He forced his eyes open and reached down to check the time on his phone. He let out a sharp gasp and looked down to see blood blooming on his fingers. That goddamn bottle. He winced as he set his feet on the ground, pushing himself off the couch in agonizing pain. The pounding headache and stabbing in his heel dragged the memories from the night before back to the forefront of his mind.

Stepping gingerly into the kitchen, Mac scrubbed at his hand with a bar of soap and ran it under the tap. The soap was making the cuts sting like a bitch, but that just meant it was getting the infection out. He had heard it on a documentary he had watched years ago, although he recalled he had been slightly distracted at the time by Dennis leaning his head on Mac’s shoulder while they sat together on the couch in the basement of his childhood home. Well, if the remedy had been working all this time, there must be some merit to it.

While looking for a kleenex or a napkin to bandage the wound, he suddenly realized the music and the noise of the shower had stopped. He glanced up and choked a little. Dennis was leaning against the bedroom doorframe, torso glistening, towel slung low around his hips. Mac felt Dennis’ eyes sweep over him, taking in the sweaty, glittery mess sitting in front of him.

“Dude, watch it with the water when I’m in the shower,” Dennis reprimanded. “I was just a half hour in, and I can’t exactly do a full skincare routine with ice water.”

Mac felt his face flush and opened his mouth, but Dennis noticed his hand. “Is that blood?”

“Yeah, I uh – there’s a broken bottle by the couch.” Mac gestured towards the mess on the floor.

Dennis raised his eyebrows. “And you thought it would be a good idea to stroke it?”

“Wha-, no dude. My phone, I wanted to—”

“Did you at least wash your hand? It’s still bleeding pretty bad.”

“Yeah, that’s why I was running the water.” Mac chewed on the corner of his lip.

Dennis looked him over again, then turned to go back into the bedroom. “Well wash it again, and make sure to use Dee’s good hand soap. The lavender helps the skin to grow back together.”

Mac nodded as Dennis disappeared behind the sliding doors, his mouth slightly ajar. He returned to the kitchen to clean himself up once again, hissing when the soap seeped into the cuts. Grabbing a nearby dish towel, he wrapped it around his hand. He leaned over to check in the fridge, swiping a container of something that vaguely resembled a breakfast. He suspected it was yogurt mixed with protein powder. That was definitely not a natural shade of brown. Whatever it was, it would be enough until they picked up some lunch on the way to the bar.

Realizing he still didn’t know what time it was, Mac checked the microwave. _12:37 p.m._ Shit, they were already a half hour late for their shift. He sat at the small table to eat the brown yogurt and checked the bottom of his foot. It was crusted with blood and some small pieces of glass were still wedged in the flesh.

Mac was still picking away at his foot when Dennis came back into the living room, now fully dressed in one of his usual crisp blue shirts and tight jeans. God, he really knew what flattered his body. “Fucked up foot too?” he asked.

“Yeah, I stepped on that goddamn bottle last night. Didn’t feel like cleaning it up before I passed out.”

Dennis scratched behind his ear, loosening some of his carefully styled curls. “Was that all the yelling? Or did you bring someone home last night?”

Mac stared into his lap at his hands, knotting his fingers together. “Uh, yeah. And no, I was just on the phone with someone.”

“Oh?” Dennis asked, leaning forward to press his hips against a nearby chair.

Mac cleared his throat. This damn yogurt was too thick. “Some damn bank scheme caller in the middle of the goddamn night. I told him where he could shove it for waking me up.”

“Serves him right,” Dennis chuckled. “This is America, get your damn timezones straight.”

A pause hung in the air. “Well, we should—”

“Yeah, I should—”

“I’ll just—”

“And I’ll shower—”

“And we’ll meet at the car.”

“Great.”

“Yeah, great.”

“…”

“…”

“So, Chinese for lunch?”

“We had Chinese yesterday.”

“Okay, sandwiches?”

“If we wanted sandwiches, we could just make them here.”

“Fine, soup?”

“Who the hell gets takeout soup?”

“Fine! What do you want, then?”

“Um, I don’t know.” 

“Perfect, that’ll keep us satisfied until dinner.”

“Okay okay, let’s go by Nonna Maria’s.”

“I’m good with pasta.”

“Good.”

“Okay good.”

“…”

“…”

“Alright, I’m going to—”

“And I’ll meet you—”

“Yep, okay.”

“For sure, cool.”

Mac waited until he heard the apartment door close to stand, mentally kicking himself. It shouldn’t be this awkward between him and Dennis. He’d been sexiled many times over the past twenty years, why should this be any different? He supposed he had grown accustomed to Dennis’ revised seduction plan. His role as the inconvenient roommate occupying the communal space had allowed him to stay in the apartment when Dennis and his targets arrived home, as well as to hear the plan unfold through the thin walls of his roommate’s bedroom. Although they hadn’t gone through that song and dance in several years. Dennis was slipping, apparently. Maybe it had just been easier when they had their own apartment.

The shower did little to lift Mac’s spirits. He watched as glitter and blood mixed with the water spiralling down into the drain. Feeling the memories from the night before come crawling back, he tried to will them away. _Focus on the water, feel it on your body. Flowing away from you, bringing the bad with it_. He watched the rivulets run off his nose, down his chest, around his legs, past his feet. One bad night didn’t need to ruin everything.

Determined to stay above the imminent shame spiral, Mac rushed through the rest of his shower and quickly got dressed. With Dennis waiting in the Range Rover, there wasn’t enough time to slick his hair back in its usual severe fashion or to lace up his boots. Grabbing his phone and his wallet off the kitchen table, he hobbled downstairs, favouring his injured heel.

The ride was a quiet one, the heavy silence between them undercut by the garish David Bowie track coming from the radio. Mac glanced over at Dennis. His eyes were fixed ahead, unreadable. White knuckles tightened their grip on the wheel when a cyclist barely missed clipping their headlight. The nerve in his jaw was taught beneath his pale skin. Had they not just picked up lunch, Mac would have had to find a way to sneak some nutrition into the man. Then again, the small Caesar salad with no dressing and no croutons Dennis had ordered for himself wasn’t a sustaining meal in any way.

Mac stayed in the car to finish his spaghetti, letting Dennis go into the bar without him. A few minutes of quiet would help him collect his thoughts and ready himself for whatever chaos awaited him inside. A flash of grey caught his eye and he turned to see two rats wrestling over an apple core on the sidewalk just outside the vehicle. _Charlie would love this._ He reached into his back pocket to grab his phone and take a video, but was interrupted by a text notification.

**Dee**  
_you starting your shift anytime this week??_

He glanced back outside, but the rats were already scampering away. Mac rubbed his temples to dispel the hangover. Sealing up the takeout spaghetti container, he locked the car and went into the bar.

“Hey assface, got any news?” Dee called out to him. Dennis, Charlie and Frank were locked in a heated discussion.

“No, why would I have news?” Mac replied.

Dee shrugged. “Figured you might have some juicy info. Dennis said you went out last night.”

“Yeah, I just went for a walk. Get some air.” Mac pulled himself up onto a stool at the bar. He reached over the counter and grabbed a beer.

Next to him, Charlie let out a frustrated yell. “You’re not getting it! And besides, you have to do it whether you like it or not.”

Mac shot an inquisitive look at Dee. “Charlie wants us to kidnap beavers for his day,” she offered.

“I didn’t say anything about kidnapping beavers!” Charlie protested. “We’re going to make a nice home where beavers would want to live, and we’ll wait for them to come to us.”

“Where is this even coming from?” Mac asked, perplexed. “Aren’t beavers just oversized rats? Why would you want to attract them?”

Frank hopped down from stool and gestured to the poster board on an easel. “Charlie and I were watching a nature documentary last night. He still didn’t know what he wanted to do for Charlie Day, so we got blitzed and made this vision board.”

“Now this is where I’m lost,” said Dennis, pointing to a cut-out photo of a pool. “What does the pool have to do with this?”

Charlie grinned. “This is where it gets good. We’ll use the old diving pool for the beavers, because they live in the water. A small creek or pond would be ideal, but we might be able to trick the beavers into thinking the pool is a tiny lake.”

“So we just clear out the trash and fill it with water? That’s super convincing, I’m sure the beavers won’t notice,” Mac scoffed.

“No, there’s obviously more we need to do,” Charlie said slowly. “We’re going to make this look like a real pond, so we need rocks on the bottom.”

“Why not just go with the concrete that’s already in the pool?”

“Have you ever seen concrete at the bottom of a lake? Neither have the beavers, keep up.”

“So we add rocks and water, that’s still not a beaver habitat.”

“Gah! Just let me finish, goddamn it!” Charlie took a deep breath. “As you can see, Frank put pictures of rocks and logs. We’ll get the rocks from Frank’s rock guy, and the logs will go on top. When the beavers find a nice pool with logs in it, they’ll start to make a dam.” He looked expectantly at Mac and Dennis. Frank nodded beside him.

Dennis shot a sideways glance at Mac. “Alright so, many questions. Where are we getting these logs? And Frank, why do you have a rock guy?”

Frank shrugged. “Gotta have a guy for everything. Just in case something comes up.”

Charlie nodded. “And we’re getting the logs from the log store, of course.”

“Of course…”

Mac ran a hand through his beard and brought it to rest on his chin. “Charlie, have you ever seen a beaver in Philly?”

“W-well, that depends if – I mean, I guess – not really, no. But remember five years ago? There were wild beavers biting people up in Pennypack Creek.”

“Now you want rabid beavers? And those were in an actual park area with woods and shit. How are beavers going to wander into an abandoned pool in South Philly? Are they going to be attracted by the smell of logs in a pool?”

“I-uh…”

“And while we’re at it,” Dennis interjected. “Why are we even doing this? How are we profiting from this scheme?”

“It’s not a scheme, it’s Charlie Day! If I want to study how beavers build their dams so I can teach rats how to do it, that’s my business. And it’s my day, so you are legally obligated to do it.”

Dennis turned to Mac. “It’s not even worth it anymore to try to understand this kid. This is absolutely ridiculous. Dee, what do you think?”

Dee looked up from her phone. “What? I tuned out after Mac came in.”

Charlie buried his face in his hands. “Y-you tuned out? Oh my god Dee, you are such a bitch.”

“How does that make me a bitch?” Dee protested. “Your plan is garbage and boring as hell.”

Frank cut in. “Oh, and Charlie says we need to get a head start on this, ‘cause we won’t be able to fit everything in one day.”

“What?” Mac turned to Dennis. “This goes beyond the rules of gang days. You get twenty-four hours and that’s it. Back me up, they can’t do this.”

“Well, I might actually be on board with this plan after all,” Dennis responded, taking a step towards Frank and Charlie. “It’s got me thinking, beavers might be useful for another scheme. You know, their furs hold great potential. Hats, mittens, suitcases, truly a whole beaver pelt market is just waiting for us to tap into. This trend may be on the rise again.” He shot Mac a knowing look.

Mac looked incredulous. “Beaver fur hasn’t been in fashion since like, the 1940s, when everyone drove around in carriages and Lincoln wore those tall hats.”

“The 1940s?” Dennis sighed. “Man, you are a special class of idiot. I’m in with Frank and Charlie, I can’t wait to get started. Let me know what I’m doing, I’ll be right back.” He headed into the bathroom.

Mac’s mind drifted while Charlie explained everyone’s role for the day’s operations. His words from the night before resurfaced in his head, yelling at Carmen who had just been trying to help. Guilt tugged at his gut and he shifted on his stool. When he checked back in with reality, Frank and Charlie were grabbing buckets and shovels and were already on their way out of the bar.

“Wait, what are we doing?”

Dee rolled her eyes. “You really need to pay attention more, shitstick. We’re on rock duty, you and I are getting rocks from Frank’s rock guy.”

“Did he at least give you an address?”

“Yeah, it’s somewhere on Gray’s Ferry Ave near the Schyulkill River,” Dee said, wiggling her phone. “Also, did you know there’s a neighbourhood called Forgotten Bottom? ‘Cause that’s where we’re going.”

“That can’t be a real place,” Mac laughed. “No way did someone actually give that name to a place where people live.”

“In any case, we definitely have to check it out.” She grabbed her purse off the counter and dug out her keys.

Dennis returned from the bathroom and sauntered over to the bar. “So what grand task have I been—wait, where are Frank and Charlie?”

Dee slid on her sunglasses. “Oh them? They left without you. In fact, Mac and I were just leaving now. As for your grand task, you’re staying here and tending bar. Lord knows one of us should actually run this business. Have fun working, boner.”

Dennis was left protesting incoherently as Mac and Dee walked outside and into the warm summer sunlight.

***

Forgotten Bottom was a disappointing place. And Frank’s rock guy worked at the dump. Of course. A sleazy, balding man whose poor choice of wardrobe was evident by the sweaty white tank he was sporting. He yelled at them to park the car on a cramped sideroad amidst the piles of garbage, all the while oblivious to the salsa dripping from his poorly wrapped burrito. So now, Mac and Dee were loading as many rocks as they could into the trailer they had hitched to the back of Dee’s car. Mac set down a large rock into the trailer and paused to wipe the sweat from his brow. Glitter glinted in the sunlight on the back of his hand.

“Goddamn it,” he muttered.

Dee turned around. “What is it we’re goddamning?”

“Uh, this crazy heat. Boy, it sure is a hot one today.”

Dee grimaced. “If you say so…”

Mac sighed and picked up another rock. “These bitches are heavy as fuck. I didn’t realize we needed this many.”

“Well yeah, dickbag, we’re filling the whole bottom of the pool.”

He faltered and dropped another large rock, narrowly missing his foot. “Fuck, this is going to take forever. Goddamn Charlie and his goddamn plan.”

Dee brushed past him and dropped her rock in the trailer. “Eh, whatever. We’ll see how it plays out. It’s not like we have anything better to do.”

“I guess not, the bar pretty much runs itself without us. At least Dennis is there today, hopefully the regulars won’t steal too much.”

Dee snorted. “How much do you want to bet he’s still there when we get back? I’m guessing he fucked off the second we left.”

Mac laughed. “Oh, he fucked off for sure. He’d be boiling with rage if he had to stay alone in the bar all day.”

They continued loading rocks in silence, the noise of trucks coming and going creating a slightly irritating urban soundscape. The trailer was approaching capacity. They had already been working on Charlie’s stupid plan for half an hour. Eventually, Dee broke the silence.

“So, Mac…,” she began. “How was your evening?”

“When, yesterday?”

“Oh my god, yes, assdick.”

“It was fine. Didn’t do anything.”

“Really? Dennis said you went out last night or something.”

“W-well yeah, I guess. I went for a walk for a bit.”

“And you fell into a vat of glitter on your way home?”

“Wh-what? N-no I didn’t! How can you tell?”

“Dude, you have glitter all over your face and in your hair.”

Mac furiously combed through his hair with his free hand. “That shit never goes away.”

“So?”

“What?”

“Are you gonna tell me what actually happened?”

“Jesus, what’s with the trial? What did _you_ do last night, you didn’t even come home.”

“Well, that’s ‘cause-, we don’t need to-, this is not about that! This is about you!”

“And maybe I don’t need some big dumb bird lady breathing down my neck all the time! I can’t spend one night alone without getting harped on by everybody?”

“Wow, bird joke, real original.” Dee rolled her eyes and sat on the back of the trailer. “If you must know, I just wanted to make sure you were okay and everything. Carmen texted me while we were at the bar earlier and asked me to check in on you.”

Mac froze. “You still… talk to Carmen?”

“I did push her kid out of my vag, so yeah we still hang out.”

“Ew, gross.”

Dee snickered. “Oh, does pregnancy scare you, Ronald? Does thinking about a tiny head poking out of my body make you want to heave?”

“Ugh, just please stop talking, that is disgusting.” Mac fanned himself with his hand and pulled at his shirt.

She laughed again. “Anyway, I see Carmen and Gavin every now and then. He’s a cute kid, looks a lot like his mom.”

Mac’s shirt was becoming increasingly sticky. “And so what did she say? Did she say anything about last night?”

“Not much, just that she was worried about you. She told me to play it subtle and check in, but you’re not exactly good when you’re on the receiving end of subtlety.”

Mac was aghast. “ _I_ can’t do subtle? You’re the one putting on a whole intervention because I yelled at her on the phone last night!”

“Wait, you called her?”

“Yeah, it’s actually not the first time.” Mac twisted his hands in his lap. “It started kind of accidentally, but she helps me calm down sometimes when I have an anxiety attack.”

“Shit, that’s… a little shocking,” Dee sputtered. “I didn’t even know you had anxiety attacks, why don’t you just ask Dennis for help? He’s with you, like, all the time.”

Something lurched in Mac’s stomach. “Uh, this isn’t something I want Dennis’ help for…”

“Oh-, oh I see.” Recognition flashed in her eyes. “And Carmen—oh, that totally makes sense.”

“What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Just—never mind. Dennis is a pain in the taint.”

Mac grunted in agreement. “Fuckin’ right. Kicking me out of the apartment to bang some cheap sorority slut. Class act, bro.”

Dee set another rock in the trailer and turned to look at Mac, confused. “What? He didn’t bang anyone last night.”

He rolled his eyes. “Uh, yeah he did. I saw her, she was gross.”

“No, he didn’t,” Dee insisted. “He was talking about it before you came in today. He was all pissy about it and said he was going to install locks on my bedroom door. Not like I’d let him, I won’t watch my shady ass brother turn my home into a creepy ass sex dungeon.”

Mac’s head was swimming. It had to be this heat. Thinking back to the morning, he realized Dennis had neglected to mention anything he had done the previous night. Not that he had denied it, either. Just let Mac run his imagination in silence. As he always did. It was easy to imagine the worst possible situation when it came to Dennis, it always had been. “So, he didn’t bang her?”

Dee scoffed. “Christ, no. It sounded like she ran out of there as soon as she realized what weird shit he wanted to do.”

“So, he didn’t have sex with her?” Mac asked again.

“No!” she exclaimed. “Jesus, Mac, try to follow.”

“Just want to make sure,” he muttered.

“I can’t believe my brother watches movies with you all the time, you can’t follow shit,” said Dee as she lifted a rather large rock into the trailer. Mac began to protest, but she cut him off. “Trailer’s getting pretty full, we should probably head out and dump these off at the pool. See what Charlie and Frank have scrounged up.”

“Finally, this has got to be the worst gang day ever. Manual labour? I never made you guys do any of that.”

“Are you serious? You don’t remember that year you made us go to the gym with you and work out the whole day? Never mind the fact that we had to talk about how jacked you were every time Rex walked by.”

“He’s a cool guy, Dee! I just wanted him to notice my sick routine or give me pointers.”

“All arms, no cardio? Great routine, dude. And I’m sure you just wanted… pointers from him.”

“I have no idea what you mean—”

Dee sighed. “Just get in the car, nutsack.”

Mac complied. They drove through the illuminated streets of South Philly in near silence. The voices on the radio were talking about bees. Saving the bees, harvesting the bees, eradicating the bees, he didn’t care. Dee pulled the car into a shoddy parallel parking job, the trailer wholly sticking out into the street. She put the vehicle in park and sat for a bit. Mac leaned for the door, waiting for Dee to move first.

“You really should call her,” she finally said.

“Who?”

She turned to look at Mac. “Carmen. She’s really worried about you, but she doesn’t want you to blow up at her again. I think that’s why she texted me instead of contacting you herself.”

Mac hung his head, feeling red creep into his face. “Sure, I’ll—yeah, I’ll do that.”

“I mean it,” Dee jabbed him in the shoulder. “If I find out tomorrow you still haven’t texted her, I’ll kick you in the teeth.”

Mac plastered a fake smile. “Hate you too, bitch.”

“Suck my dick.”

She slammed the door and walked away. The phone felt heavy in his hand, ready to sink through his body and into the floor. He opened his text conversation with Carmen. The last message had been him thanking her. There was so much here unseen. Several minutes passed while he typed and erased, again and again.

**Mac**  
_can we talk sometime?_

He nodded. This was fine. It was not an apology, not an admission of guilt in any way. Just proposing an idea, suggesting that a further conversation should take place. He jumped a little when the notification bell dinged.

**Carmen**  
_Yes. Dessert at my house at 7?_

Mac texted back the thumbs-up emoji. He’d ask Dee for the address, no need in making this conversation any longer than it needed to be. He leaned back into the headrest of the passenger seat and closed his eyes. Not even the promise of cheesecake could take the dread away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day early this week! This chapter was co-authored by my roommate's cat, Mika, who sat on my lap and erased multiple paragraphs with her butt.
> 
> [its-always-philly-in-sunidelphia](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/its-always-philly-in-sunidelphia) on Tumblr.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac lifted his gaze, soft brown eyes. “Are you still mad at me from when we dated?”
> 
> She knit her brows. “About something specifically?”
> 
> “I guess about everything.”

Mac rang the doorbell and ran his hand down the front of his shirt. It was trembling. He shoved it in his pocket to steady it. Tapping his foot, he glanced around at the perfect identical houses lining the street. Looming. Watching. He couldn’t see anyone, but the chatter of children’s voices and buzzing lawnmowers filled the distant air. Everything smelled too big. Grass instead of tobacco, earth instead of gasoline. Growth instead of decay. He tightened his grip on the neck of the wine bottle in his hand, hoping the sweat wouldn’t make it slip through his fingers and smash on the immaculate front porch.

Footsteps approached the door. Carmen opened the door and wiped her palms on her jeans.

“Mac, come on in. Oh, and you brought—”

“Here, I brought wine,” he said as he thrust the bottle towards her.

“Thanks, this uh-” she checked the label, “Saskatchewan… wine will go well with the cheesecake.”

“It tastes like cherries.”

“I see that.”

“It has a bear on the label.”

“Yeah, I see that too.”

“Bears are cool.”

“Yeah, they can be.”

They stood in the doorway for a moment, avoiding eye contact. “Why don’t you just come inside?” she finally offered.

“Yeah, for sure. Great.”

Mac brushed past her as he stepped into the house, both laughing nervously. He removed his boots and looked up into the foyer, glimpsing the kitchen beyond the hall. Sneakers, varying greatly in size, littered the shoe rack just inside the door. Everything was so brightly coloured, from the kitbag on the floor to the homemade art on the walls. He blinked a few times, adjusting to this unusual colour palette. The faint smell of something spicy drifted down towards the foyer, the last remnants of a meal already enjoyed. They stepped into the kitchen, where Stevie Wonder was singing about the joys of seeing his baby daughter grow. This was a home, but it was unlike any home Mac had ever seen.

“You remember my husband Nick?”

Mac turned and stared into a scowling face inches from his own. “Yeah, it’s uh—nice to see you again.”

Nick grunted and looked over the man standing before him. “You better not pull anything stupid on my wife.”

“Babe!” Carmen exclaimed. “Mac is just here to talk. We’ll be in the dining room, if you want to help Gavin with his homework in the living room. I think he’s almost done his reading assignment.”

He flashed one last glare at Mac and headed off towards the child on the couch. Carmen grabbed a paper box and two glasses from the counter. “Shall we go eat?”

Mac nodded and followed her, seating himself at the wooden table. His eyes widened as she opened the box, revealing a large chocolate cherry cheesecake. She glanced up at him and gave a small smile. “I remembered how much you like cheesecake, I figured you’d enjoy this flavour. It’s from a pie shop near Gavin’s school, they have so many different kinds.” She placed a hand on her forehead. “You probably don’t care about that, I’m rambling.”

He reached his plate over to her. “It looks really good.” She cut him a slice and laid it on the plate, then served herself a considerably smaller piece.

“Wine?”

“Please.”

“…”

“…”

“So how was the drive here?”

“Fine. I took a cab.”

“Oh, I thought Dennis would’ve—”

“No. He didn’t.”

“Alright.”

They ate in silence, punctuated by the scraping forks on the ceramic plates.

“I talked to Dee—”

“I said some stuff to you last—”

They both looked at each other, startled. Carmen placed her fork on the edge of the plate. “You go first.”

Mac stabbed at his dessert. “I guess what I wanted to say, uh, is that, um, I wish I hadn’t said some of that stuff. Yesterday. When we were on the phone. Or I guess it was this morning.” He frowned and rubbed his hand along the side of his head.

She gave him a pointed look and raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And what?”

“Come on, I know you know what you’re supposed to say.”

He raised his hands. “Fine! I’m sorry! Is that good enough for you?”

Carmen pressed against her temples. “Jesus, Mac. You’re a forty-year-old man and you don’t even know how to properly apologize.”

“Actually, I’m thirty-nine.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. Mac cleared his throat. “I, um, I am sorry. Really. I know I get angry easily, but that doesn’t mean what I said didn’t hurt you.”

Carmen looked up at him. His eyes were boring holes through the table, his hands knotting into a jumble of poor circulation. “Thank you,” she whispered. She watched as his shoulders relaxed slightly and he unclenched his jaw.

Mac lifted his gaze, soft brown eyes. “Are you still mad at me from when we dated?”

She knit her brows. “About something specifically?”

“I guess about everything.”

“Well, I was at the time. You said horrible things that took a long time for me to get over.”

“I’m really sorry about that.” He stared intently into the table again.

“And I know that now.” Carmen paused, rubbing her thumb along the palm of her other hand. “The thing is, when we ran into you after my surgery and you tried to destroy our marriage, I realized that you were coming from a place of fear. And that was a fear I understand deeply. It was a fear I had for a long time, myself. And fear can cause people to lash out.”

He studied a loose thread on the pocket of his pants. “I still have that fear.”

“It’s okay if you do. I still have it sometimes.”

He looked back up again, raising an eyebrow. “You do? But you’ve been out since, like, forever.”

“Not to everyone. Not many people in my life now knew me as a teenager. Most, I know I can trust. Not everyone, though. Coming out is a continuous process that lasts your whole life.”

“But aren’t you a coward if you still hide that? You’re supposed to be proud of who you are.”

Carmen took a sip of wine, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly. “It’s not about cowardice. Fear is not always a bad thing. It’s a brain process designed to recognize dangerous and potentially threatening situations. And coming out to the wrong people can definitely become a danger. Either emotionally, mentally… or even physically.”

Mac rubbed his fingers into the palm of his hand, nearly grinding them through the skin. “But how do you know when it’s safe to come out to someone? You can’t predict how they’ll react.”

She tilted her head. “Not necessarily. You can test the waters and see how they react to similar things. Like a celebrity who’s recently come out, or a movie that has gay characters. If they reject it, you’ll know you don’t need to tell them yet. If they seem fine with it, or even accepting, it may be a sign they’re someone you can trust.”

His hands stilled. “Maybe. I could try that. I don’t watch a lot of gay movies though.”

“It doesn’t have to be a movie, it can be anything. You could try dropping subtle hints, see if they pick up on it. But you don’t need to do this right away.”

“I don’t know about hints,” he replied. “I don’t think they’d buy me as a gay man. I just don’t come across that way at all.” Carmen’s eyebrow jumped, and she lowered her gaze.

Mac took another bite of cheesecake, the dessert having been ignored for some time. “I hate this. I wish everyone just knew already.”

“You’ll get there. This is the hardest part. The not knowing is one of the worst things about coming out.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, and the worst would be if they all left forever. Great stuff to look forward to.”

“Mac, listen to me.” She leaned forward and grabbed his hand in both of hers. “Your friends are awful, terrible people. But they won’t leave you. They might not all understand this, but I think they deserve a little more credit than you’re giving them.”

He chewed a few times and swallowed his bite, shooting a look down at his hand clasped in Carmen’s. “Sure, okay. Whatever you say, I guess.” He reached to pull his hand back. She held firmly.

“I mean it. They haven’t left you in the twenty-five years you’ve known each other, they won’t leave you now.”

Mac let his wrist fall to the table. “I just-, I wish…” His voice trailed off as he looked out the nearby window. “It really sucks ass being the only one going through this.”

Carmen let go and leaned back in her chair. “Are you serious? Because you know that’s absolutely not true.”

He rolled his eyes. “Really? You’re saying there are other Catholic dudes who are almost forty finally figuring out they’re not straight? That’s rich.”

She blinked. “I’m not joking. My friend David went through the same thing about five years ago. He’s happily married now. And still Catholic, in case you were wondering.”

Mac lowered his gaze to his plate, nearly empty. He reached for his wine glass and emptied it in one large gulp. “Gah, that wine is terrible. Really get your money’s worth for those eight bucks.”

Carmen regarded the man sitting across from her. “Mac, do you think it would help if you met other gay people?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Met them how? ‘Cause I don’t know—”

“No no, not like dating,” she clarified. “Just as friends. At like, an event, or something.”

He scratched behind his ear. “Maybe? I guess. As long as they’re not weirdos. ‘Cause some of the gays and trannies can be pretty…” He waved a hand around in the air.

Her eyes widened. “Um… okay then. Turn that down before you meet my friends, please. I know you’re still dealing with all of this, but you can’t say that kind of stuff. And please don’t use that word, it’s a slur and it’s disgusting. The word is transgender, or trans.”

“Sure, whatever,” he replied. “So, what kind of event are we talking? Like a big, gay dinner party?”

“We could do a dinner, if it helps you feel comfortable. It wouldn’t be big thing though, I can probably fit ten or so people in our dining room.”

Mac nodded, rubbing his hands together. “Okay, dinner for ten, I _may_ not be able to make that much mac and cheese—”

“I’m going to stop you right there; you do not need to cook. Actually, please don’t cook. I’m getting flashbacks to burnt tomato soup.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, fucked that one up pretty bad. Who knew you could burn soup?”

She frowned. “And that garlic bread was… Anyway, we’ll take care of the food. You can—”

“I’ll bring the music!” He exclaimed. “I’ll make a sweet mix, you’ll love it. Dennis doesn’t usually let—”

“Mac,” she said, causing him to look back to her. “You don’t need to bring music. If you really want to bring something, you can get some wine.”

He nodded again. “Wine, yes, I can do that. And I’ll get better stuff than this, this bottle was real shit.” He gestured to Carmen’s nearly untouched glass. “High alcohol content, though.”

Mac shoveled in his last bite of cheesecake. “So, when should we plan this for?”

Carmen grimaced at the crumbs being sprayed across the table. “How about next Sunday? Usually folks aren’t too busy Sunday nights.”

He grinned. “Next Sunday it is. And just wait, I’m gonna make such a good impression on your friends.”

She hesitated at returning the smile. “I’m sure you will.”

***

The sun had long since set when Mac arrived home. He stepped inside and out of his boots, leaning into the kitchen to see who was home. Soft music drifted in from the bathroom. He tossed his sunglasses onto the table, cursing as they bounced off and fell to the floor.

“Dee? I swear to God, you have to start investing in better produc—oh, it’s you.”

Mac took a second to take in the full picture of Dennis standing in the doorway, dressed in his bathrobe and donning a green facemask. “Uh, what is wrong with your face?”

Dennis stood frozen for a second, then hurriedly ripped off the mask and stuffed it in his pocket. “It’s for my pores, not that you care. Where have you been all evening? You didn’t even check in.”

Mac plopped down onto the couch and stretched himself out as much as he could across the small space. “I was at a friend’s house.”

“Friend? We don’t have friends, we have enemies and temporary allies.”

“Yeah, well, I have a friend.”

“Who?”

“Carmen.”

“That name means nothing to me, I don’t know who that is.”

Mac sighed. “You have met her on numerous occasions. I was dating her, like, nine years ago. And then again two years later.”

“Dude, the only woman you’ve ever dated was the tranny. Why are you hanging out with her?”

“No, bro, you can’t say that anymore,” he said. “Yeah, she told me it’s transgender now.”

“Really, since when?”

“I dunno man, but it’s a slur. So you shouldn’t call her that.”

“Fine then, but why are you hanging out with her?”

Mac raised his hands. “Do I have to have a _reason_ to see people now?”

“You do if it’s your ex!”

He pushed himself off the couch. “Whatever, man. I’m too tired for this and I did not sleep well last night.”

“Clubbing at two in the morning will do that to you…” mumbled Dennis, looking down and adjusting his robe.

Mac turned to face Dennis. “And whose fault is it that I had to go out in the first place?”

“I didn’t tell you to go swim in glitter,” he said, with hands on his hips. “It’s still in your hair, by the way.”

“And was it all worth it, Dennis?” Mac asked, pacing forward. “Kicking me out? Was she really that good?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he replied, mocking.

“That’s interesting,” said Mac, coming to a halt in front of his roommate. “I do find it hard to believe. You see, I talked to Dee today, and she said that girl ran out of here pretty quick.”

Dennis edged closer to Mac, lifting his chin slightly. “Maybe so.”

Mac mirrored his posture. “Watch it, Golden God. You’re slipping.”

They were nose to nose, neither willing to back down. Dennis held his breath as Mac stared straight into his eyes. The moment stretched on far too long. Mac shuffled his foot in an attempt to gain a little height on the man in front of him. Dennis flicked his eyes down to Mac’s mouth. He blinked. When he looked up, Mac’s gaze had softened, and he seemed to be moving in even closer. Dennis pulled back abruptly and brushed his hands down his robe.

“Alright then! I’m off to bed. Goodnight, and whatnot.”

Dennis turned to go back into the bedroom but stopped when he noticed Mac following him. “Whoa, buddy. Where do you think you’re going?”

“Uh, to bed,” he replied, pointing through the doorway. “I’m tired as shit.”

“You’re sure as hell not sleeping in the bed,” Dennis said. “I bribed the old man to go off somewhere else tonight so I could have it to myself. You are not about to ruin my perfect evening.”

“And where exactly do you expect me to sleep?”

He gestured emptily to the living room. “The couch.”

Mac placed a hand on his chest. “Well, I would argue that I need the bed more than you. My back’s all fucked up from last night on that couch, plus I moved heavy rocks all day. You did dick-all at the bar.”

Dennis placed his hands on his hips. “I don’t care, you’re not sleeping in the bed.”

“Too late!” he called, throwing himself onto the bed.

“Oh my god, you are insufferable,” Dennis said, crawling into the opposite side of the bed. He tugged the covers with a little more force than he had intended. “This was supposed to be my evening. If I see you taking up my side, I will kick you until your legs are black and blue.”

Mac snorted over his shoulder. “Oh, don’t worry, bro. I’m mad at you too, there is no way I want to look at you all night.”

Dennis settled down further under the blankets. “I hate this bet, I hate this stupid, stupid bet. I hate Frank, I hate the suburbs.”

“You know we didn’t have to forfeit, right?” Mac’s voice was muffled by the covers. “We could’ve just waited it out, taken the free rent on that house and just subletted it to someone else while we got our own apartment back downtown. We would’ve even made money off Frank.”

Dennis sighed heavily. “That is the first smart thing you have said in your entire goddamn life, but it is wholly useless to us now, seeing as we have already lost the bet! I hate Frank, I hate that old man, and I hate Dee! She had no business nosing her way into this bet.”

“Where is she anyway?” Mac asked. “She wasn’t here last night either.”

“I honestly have no idea, and I really do not care. Just shut up and go to sleep, asshole.”

Though sleep did eventually come to them both, it was inevitable that they would wake up in each others’ arms. Not the first time, and certainly not the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating before I move this weekend, we'll see if I have enough time to polish up chapter 5 before next week. Thanks again for reading!
> 
> [its-always-philly-in-sunidelphia](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/its-always-philly-in-sunidelphia) on Tumblr.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She watched as Mac poured himself a glass of wine, chugged the entire thing, and poured himself another. “Gavin just started grade—Are you okay?”
> 
> He looked up from his drink. “Hmm? Yeah, just nervous. Don’t go to that many dinner parties.”
> 
> “Somehow I’m not surprised,” she remarked, wincing at the sight of him finishing his second glass as quickly as the first.

A knock at the door interrupted Carmen as she set two glasses on the kitchen counter. She called upstairs. “Babe, can you get the door?”

“I can’t find my socks!” A voice called back from the second floor.

“Fine, I’ve got it.” She brushed her palms on her jeans and headed into the foyer.

Three loud knocks came again before she reached the front of the house. The knocking turned into incessant pounding just as she grabbed the knob and pulled. Mac stared at her for a second, then lowered his fist.

“Hey, I brought wine.” He gestured to his feet, where four boxes of wine were stacked on her doorstep.

“Wow! That is… a lot of wine.”

Mac scratched below his ear. “Do you think it’ll be enough for ten people? I could get more.”

Carmen pressed a finger to the bridge of her nose. “This will be plenty. Come on in, I’ll give you a hand.”

“No need,” he replied, struggling to pick up the boxes. “I’m a bit of a badass, I don’t need help.”

“Are you sure? Because it looks really unstab—”

“I’m fine! Can you jus-, can you put that last one under my chin? I think I got the rest.”

“How about I just carry it inside?” she offered, grabbing the final box with ease.

“No, I’ve got this! You can just—whoops—alright, whatever. Just bring the last one, then.”

Carmen nodded and followed Mac into the kitchen. He let the boxes down onto the floor and sank heavily into a chair at the kitchen table, panting.

“So, Mac,” she said slowly. “You’re here a little early.”

He looked up at her. “Huh? Oh yeah. I know it starts in an hour still, but it was either come now or not at all.”

She knit her brows. “I don’t follow.”

“Okay, so it’s like working out,” he started. “You know you should go to the gym, and you know it’s probably a good thing to go, but you really don’t want to, and thinking about it kind of makes you want to throw up, but you know you should go, so you just take a shot and leave as fast as possible before the energy runs out. You know?”

Carmen stared blankly at him. “I mean, not really, because going to the gym is my job, but sure. I’m still not quite sure I get it.”

Mac shook his head. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Do you need help with anything?”

She turned to look at the counter. “Sure, but you don’t have to. I was just bringing out some glasses. There’s not a whole lot to do, actually.”

“Cool, sounds good,” he said, barrelling past her and checking the oven. “What’s in there, is that lasagna? Fuck yes, this is gonna be good.”

“Mac!” she said in a hushed tone. “Please watch your language, Gavin could be down any minute.”

“Ah yeah, your kid.” He grabbed a box of wine from the floor and lifted it up onto the counter. “You know, I haven’t actually seen him since he popped out. How old is he?”

“He’s five…” She watched as Mac poured himself a glass of wine, chugged the entire thing, and poured himself another. “He’s just started grade—Are you okay?”

He looked up from his drink. “Hmm? Yeah, just nervous. Don’t go to that many dinner parties.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised,” she remarked, wincing at the sight of him finishing his second glass as quickly as the first.

“Ah, that’s the good stuff.” He poured more wine into the glass. “I stole it from the bar, we’ve got a ton of it just sitting in the basement. Want some?”

“I’ll just wait until the other guests arrive.”

“Suit yourself,” he replied, finishing his third glass of wine.

A knock at the door turned their attention to the foyer. “Hey-o, wonder who that is,” called Mac.

“Christ, that downpour started fast,” said a familiar voice. “Just gonna let myself in. I think the garlic bread’s fine, can I pop it in the oven?”

Mac stared openly at the figure in the doorway. “Dee? What are you doing here?”

Dee stepped into the kitchen, dripping water onto the floor. “Carmen invited me, dickhole. She said there’d be lasagna.”

“Dee! Can I take your coat?” Carmen asked, glancing at the growing puddle. “And yes, you can. You know where the baking sheets are.”

She laughed and tossed the jacket to Carmen. “Oh yeah, this bitch is soaked. Ooh, is that wine?”

Mac gaped at her as she snatched a glass from the counter and leaned over to the box. “But why did she invite you? You’re not even a…”

“A lesbian?” Dee downed her glass in two large gulps, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “The thing is, though, that I am.”

“Since when?” Mac asked, incredulous.

“Since when have you been gay?” Dee flashed a knowing look.

Mac sputtered as Carmen came back into the kitchen. “Mac, I invited Dee to show you that you’re not alone in this. This is what tonight is all about, after all. Hopefully, knowing that one of your friends already has your back will help you become more comfortable with this side of yourself.”

He turned to look at Dee, hoping to find some reassurance, or at least some understanding. Instead, she was polishing off another glass of wine. “Fine. I guess she can stay, but we are not done with this conversation,” he said, going in for more wine as well.

“That’s the spirit,” said Dee as she burped. “What glass are you on?”

He finished his drink and set it down forcefully on the counter. “Four.”

“Shit, I gotta catch up.”

Carmen grimaced and leaned in to take a glass off the countertop. If this was going to be a long night, she might as well be ready for it.

***

“Alright, welcome everybody,” started Carmen. “The food is ready and we’re just missing two more people, but David texted me and said they’re nearly here and to get started without them. Help yourself to some wine, and thank you Sheila for baking this wonderful cake. I’m already looking forward to dessert.”

Sheila smiled back and squeezed her wife’s hand. “It’s our pleasure, thank you so much to you and Nick for hosting. Nancy and I loved an excuse for some quality time in the kitchen.”

Across the room, Carmen could see Mac roll his eyes and poke Dee in the side. “Let’s get to the best part: the food. Everyone help yourselves, there’s more than enough wine too,” she said. Mac shot her finger guns in reply.

As they all sat around the large table in the dining room, the last guests arrived. Nick greeted them in the foyer, three male laughs echoing out into the other room. Carmen looked up from her plate as they entered the dining room. “David, Scott! You made it, nice to have you here.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mac and Dee jolt up. The two recently arrived guests were frozen in shock. David leaned over to her ear and whispered. “Carmen, why are these people here?”

She frowned. “This is Mac, the guy I mentioned to you earlier, and his friend Dee. What is it?”

Scott placed his palm on his face. “I can’t-, no I can’t tonight. Not you.”

On the other side of the table, Mac’s face was deep red, and he had shuffled his chair in an attempt to hide behind Dee. Carmen shot a glance between the two parties, slowly rising out of her chair. “Mac, can I talk to you in the kitchen.” It wasn’t a question.

The red had migrated down into his neck as he creeped away from the table. He sat on a stool at the kitchen island and rested his elbows on the surface, holding his head in his hands. Carmen stood across him, her hands on her hips. “So?”

Mac sighed. “So what?”

“Are you going to tell me what just happened in there? I thought you said you didn’t know any gay people.”

His face twisted. “Yeah… so that’s not entirely true. I went to their church for a while a few months back.”

“And?” she asked when he offered no further explanation.

“And what?”

“Oh my God. What happened to explain what just went down in there?”

Mac twisted his fingers around his tie. “Well, there was an incident on a cruise ship…”

Carmen’s voice grew forceful. “Mac, what did you do?”

“I didn’t sink the ship,” he assured. “That was a freak storm. Anyway, I was having this huge crisis and I realized I needed to convert the two of them from being gay, but they decided they’d try to do it the other way around.”

“And turn you gay?” she asked.

“Exactly. And it worked, like, right away. David had some… creative methods.” The red was crawling up his cheeks again.

“Christ, did you sleep with him? Did you sleep with both of them?”

“Eh, not quite. But David got very friendly with the mast of my ship, if you get wh—”

“Of course I get what you mean, Mac, this is—okay, I’m going to need a minute.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and turned to look back into the dining room.

“Okay.” He sat patiently, balancing on the stool.

She faced him again, hands on her hips. “Mac, how did you seriously already sleep with one of the people here tonight?”

“Again, we didn’t bang. But I guess it would be two, actually. ‘Cause you and me…”

“I can’t, I can’t deal with you right now.” Carmen threw her hands in the air and left the kitchen, diving back into whatever chaos awaited around the table.

The room was quiet, everyone’s eyes on the two as they rejoined the table. Just as quickly, they turned back to their conversations. She took her seat next to her husband, rolling her eyes in response to his concerned look. It wasn’t worth going into everything right now. Mac sat down at the other side of the table, pulling up his chair between Dee and Gavin. 

“So, Gavin,” he started, poking his salad around, “what kind of stuff are you doing in school?”

The child’s face lit up. “Dinosaurs! We just started learning about the different kinds of dinosaurs, and my favourite one is the tricerapots. It’s special cause it has horns, like a rhinorecis. It eats all kinds of plants, it’s a nice dinosaur that doesn’t eat the other animals. I tried eating a leaf one time, but it didn’t taste super good.” Gavin frowned and stuck his tongue out.

Mac nodded along. “Cool, yeah. Dinosaurs are the shit, man.”

“Mac!” Carmen hissed. “Watch your language, please.”

“Ah shit, sorry Carmen. Fuck, I mean—shit, I—”

“Mac,” she said, forcefully putting down her utensils, “stop talking. Just stop talking.”

He looked at her and abruptly closed his mouth. Nick’s eyes were ready to burn the house down. Forks clinked against plates. Across the table, a woman with grey hair cut through the silence. “So, Mac. Carmen tells me you’re a recent addition to the gay community. How long have you been out?”

“What? I’m not gay,” he shot at her, disgusted. “Why would you think I’m gay?”

“Isn’t that what—” She glanced at Carmen, confusion written across her face. “I’m sorry, hun, I guess I had the wrong impression about tonight.”

“Yeah, you did,” he said, the words biting out a chunk of the atmosphere in the room.

The woman hesitated. “So, what are we doing here? I thought there was someone who was newly out and wanted some guidance.”

Mac’s shoulders tensed. “Uh, Dee. Yeah, she’s a lesbian and she hasn’t told anyone. We’re here for her,” he said, putting a supportive hand on her back.

Dee glared back at him and shrugged him off. “Get your hand off me, idiot.”

Carmen lowered her head into her hands. She had known not to expect a perfect evening in any sense, but this was rapidly becoming far worse than she had intended. At least the guests were talking amongst themselves again. Rubbing her brow bone with her thumbs, she caught sight of a shadow creeping in the foyer. One chair at the table was empty, she noticed. _Goddamn it, Dee._

Excusing herself from her guests, Carmen stepped into the hall as Dee was pulling on her boots. “Hey, Dee. What’s up?” she asked in a pointed tone.

Dee looked up. “Oh, just forgot something in my car. I’ll be back in a sec.”

“You took a cab, I saw you get here,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Fine, whatever, you caught me,” Dee conceded, adjusting her coat, still damp from the rain. “Trying to skip out on the worst dinner party ever. Can you really blame me though?”

“Yes, absolutely! You promised you’d be here for Mac. You of all people should know how difficult it is to reconcile identity and sexuality when you feel alone in your struggle. I know you still haven’t told your brother.”

“Don’t you bring that up now, we are not talking about that again,” said Dee, sticking her finger in Carmen’s face. “I’ll tell him when I’m goddamn good and ready to tell him.”

“I know, I know. This hasn’t been easy for you, but you have the opportunity to help someone you care about—” Dee made a face, “—someone in your life, then, who is going through the same thing as you are.”

“But it’s not the same,” she tried. “He has that whole Catholic guilt thing going on, and he’s been in a committed relationship for the past twenty years, whether he knows it or not. I can’t even get a second date unless she’s desperate.”

“I’m sure that not tru—”

“Oh, it definitely is,” Dee assured. “Listen, if I’m going to go back into that hellhole of a dinner, it’s gotta be worth my while. And lasagna won’t cut it this time, although it was very good. So, what’ve you got?”

Carmen stared at her. “What do you mean, what have I got?”

“Convince me. Make me stay.”

“Seriously? Is helping a friend not enough for you?”

“Hmm, not a friend. Pain in the ass, sure, but not friend. Try again.”

“I can’t believe you’re actually making me do this.”

Dee paused, tapping her chin. “Wait a minute, I might have something. You said Mac hasn’t told anyone he’s gay yet?”

“That’s right.”

“Which means he would be very… displeased… inconvenienced, even, if that were to get out. Especially to the wrong people.” Dee’s face broke into a sinister smile.

“Are you talking about _blackmailing_ him?” Carmen asked, shocked.

“Well, maybe—” She paused at Carmen’s pronounced scowl. “Fine, no blackmail. But he does owe me, big time. And so do you.”

Carmen breathed a sigh of relief. “Sure, I owe you one, Dee.”

“And I can call it in any time I want.”

“That’s how it works.”

Dee clapped her hands together. “Oh, this is going to be delightful. Okay, I’m going to need a hell of a lot more wine if I’m sticking around all night.”

Carmen felt her shoulders release as Dee removed her coat. One crisis averted, at least. Mac’s voice in the dining room cut through her thoughts.

“So, like, what are you? Are you chick or a dude, ‘cause I can’t tell.”

“Oh, I’m agender, actually.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m a gender too, I’m asking which one you are.”

Dear God, this night was not getting any better.

***

All the guests were gone. They had left hours ago. All except two. Was Carmen really surprised they had stayed that long? She really should have expected as much. Especially when they opened the third box of wine. Things had taken a turn when they discovered YouTube karaoke. Now they were standing on the front porch. She had been relieved when they started to gather their things, but her watch was telling her they’d been on that porch for twenty minutes, now. She yawned. Getting up for work tomorrow seemed like an impossible task.

She felt a hand on her arm. “Carmen, this was, like, the best gay dinner party ever. This was so great, we should do it again next week.”

Carmen winced. “How about we wait a little bit? I think some people may need a little break after tonight.”

Mac clapped his hands together. “Two weeks then. Can’t wait.”

“Jesus, Mac, let’s go,” said Dee, leaning against the doorframe and holding her head. “We’re almost out of wine and I need food.”

“Just a second, though,” said Mac, tapping Carmen on the arm. “Meeting all these gay people was so… what’s the word? Ah shit, I forget the word. Uh… in-, unsp-, inspri—”

“Inspiring?”

“Oh shit, yeah, that. It was just, like, people can really do that. They can just keep livin’ and shit, and it works!” He took a deep breath. “I think I’m ready to tell Dennis.”

The two women exchanged a glance. “You are?” Carmen asked.

“Yeah, I am. And Dee, you should do it too.”

She froze. “No, no, I’m not doing that.”

“No, come on, you totally should. We can do it together, we can be like gay twins.” He laughed. “Twins, you’re already a twin.”

Dee rolled her eyes. “Mac, you are way too drunk for your own good. You’re not even going to remember this tomorrow morning.”

“I’m _serious_ , Dee,” he insisted. “It’s time to embrace your caterpillar and become fat.”

“What?”

“The caterpillar inside you has to become—or maybe it’s something else. I know food was involved.”

Dee looked over to Carmen, who waved her hand in dismissal. Mac sighed deeply and slung an arm around Dee’s shoulder, hanging like dead weight. “No, really Dee, you should do it. You should tell Dennis.” Mac’s words slurred as much as his body swayed, arm dangling in the air.

“I can’t just tell him, idiot,” she replied, slinging Mac’s body further up her own to keep him from falling. Her voice grew small, her eyes firmly on the ground. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Mac, you don’t need to rush things,” offered Carmen. “Especially after tonight. I think you might still be sensitive to the topic. You didn’t need to blow up at Lynn, but I think it’s a sign you still need some time.”

He scrunched his face. “Who’s Lynn? Anyway, Dee you gotta help me tell Dennis that I lo-, no wait, that’s not what I—” He wiped his mouth as Dee and Carmen exchanged another wide-eyed look. “Need to tell him I’m into h-, into dudes.”

“Fuck Dennis, I need food,” Dee said directly into his ear. Mac winced and pulled himself off her shoulder.

“Fine, let’s go. But you’d be a better butterfly if you just told him. And then you can eat all the food you want.”

Dee shook her head. “J-just stop talking. Headache.”

Carmen watched in silence as the two of them eventually slid into the cab they had called, the headlights reflected in the puddles on the dark road. There was nothing to say, after all, since they wouldn’t remember anything the next morning. She frowned. At least, she certainly hoped they wouldn’t remember any promises they had made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! All moved in and starting my program on Friday, so the updates will be slowing down now that I'm back in school.
> 
> Edit July 3: updates will be more frequent now that school has calmed down a bit! Still writing chapter 6, but it's a long one so it's worth it.
> 
> [its-always-philly-in-sunidelphia](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/its-always-philly-in-sunidelphia) on Tumblr


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, Mom, there’s actually something I wanted to tell you…”
> 
> She lifted the cigarette to her lips.
> 
> “I-it’s actually been a long time coming, I-I just didn’t know how to…”
> 
> Exhale.
> 
> “Or I guess it’s more recent, it’s been kinda hard to figure out.”
> 
> The cigarette went back down to the table.
> 
> “It’s just that—I mean, it’s really important and I—”
> 
> “Christ, get to the point!”

Mac shoved his hands into his pockets as he shuffled along the sidewalk. Charlie was saying something, but he wasn’t paying attention. It was hard enough trying to piece together Sunday evening without a high-pitched voice yammering something about a new roomba for the basement.

He rolled a piece of lint through his fingers. He was going to tell Dennis. He was supposed to tell Dennis. He should. There was absolutely no way that was going to happen, of course. One evening spent in the presence of gay people wasn’t going to instantly give him the courage to confess his deepest-held secret to the person who mattered the most to him. Absolutely no way.

“Why not?”

Mac looked up at Charlie. “Huh? Why not what? What did I say?”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you like Knife-Man?”

“Knife-Man? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bro, you weren’t even listening? Jesus. I was saying that once I’m finished putting together Knife-bot, I’m going to make a suit with knives stapled to it and be the Knife-Man. It’ll be super sick, bro, the rats’ll be terrified of me.”

“ _Knife-Man_ , Charlie? That is the craziest shit you’ve ever said. Stapling is by far the worst way of attaching a blade to clothes. Dude, you gotta use some sort of adhesive at least. Like sticky tac.”

“Well, I don’t have sticky tac.” He kicked a rock into the street, watching it bounce and roll towards a manhole. “Do you think gum would work?”

Mac paused and squinted up at the red sunset sky. “Sure, I guess. Gum is surprisingly versatile. It could probably hold a knife on clothes.”

“So, if I change the staples to gum, what do you think?”

“Well, you’d have to be careful with the blades,” he warned. “Before you suit up, I’ll give you some pointers on the most badass ways to inflict pain and destruction. I can do shit with a butter knife that would blow your mind.”

“Dude, I’m not taking knife safety lessons from you. If anything, I’m way more badass and safe than you are. You’re the one who stabbed yourself with a sword when you tried to put it in your belt.”

“Bro, that’s not—that’s unfair, dude—you’re not allowed—”

“Whatever, man,” said Charlie, waving his hand dismissively. “Let’s just go get Dennis’ cameras back from our moms’ place, and then we can get back to the pool.”

Mac let out a dejected huff and kicked a can off the sidewalk. It skidded a short distance and came to a grinding stop. They continued to walk in silence the few blocks to Charlie’s childhood home. This was what made their friendship great: they could build off each other and keep raising the energy, but they appreciated the quiet moments when they were just there. Together. Most things didn’t need to be said aloud between them. At the same time, Mac knew there were some things Charlie would never understand. Well, maybe just two things. His heart caught in his throat and he coughed to mask whatever it was he was feeling.

Mrs. Kelly answered the door with her usual enthusiasm, greeted in return by Charlie’s obligatory attempts to brush her off. Her mood had improved considerably this past week, having seen her son four times in as many days. It wasn’t that Charlie hated his mother, Mac knew that. But a childhood spent in the overwhelming care of Mrs. Kelly did prompt a sort of necessity to embrace the freedom that adulthood brought. Maybe it wasn’t surprising, then, that Charlie enjoyed most of his waking—and sleeping—hours with Frank, whom Mac was still convinced was Charlie’s biological father. There was no other way to explain that disgusting bond the two men shared.

Mac leaned into the doorway as Charlie ducked to avoid a hug from Bonnie. His own mother was nowhere in sight. It was okay, she just wasn’t the door-answering type. He eventually spotted her at the kitchen table, ever-present cigarette burning to a stub between her yellowing fingers. She hacked loudly and leaned forward to spit into the mug next to her.

“Hey, Mom!”

Barely moving her head, she glanced over her shoulder at Mac barging into the kitchen. She grunted in response as he pulled up a chair and sat beside her.

“Hey, I’m back again today. It’s been nice to see you so much this week, your hair is looking good.” He reached out to touch her head, only to have his hand swatted away.

“So, Mom, how’s everything going around here? Everything good?”

Grunt. She kept her eyes trained forward, avoiding meeting his gaze.

“That’s good, I’ve been enjoying it too. Although I guess it’s been raining a lot this week,” he said, peering out the back porch.

Sniff.

“And everything’s good with Mrs. Kelly? She hasn’t tried to bash your head in with a hammer?”

Sideways glare.

“Good, good…”

Nothing.

Mac leaned forward, entwining his fingers together on the table. His heart was already racing, and he was sure the sweat breaking along his brow hadn’t come from the leisurely walk from Paddy’s.

“So, Mom, there’s actually something I wanted to tell you…”

She lifted the cigarette to her lips.

“I-it’s actually been a long time coming, I-I just didn’t know how to…”

Exhale.

“Or I guess it’s more recent, it’s been kinda hard to figure out.”

The cigarette went back down to the table.

“It’s just that—I mean, it’s really important and I—”

“Christ, get to the point!”

Mac jolted up, startled. “Uh, yeah, sure. Um, just let me—”

And that’s when he saw them. The cameras he had come to collect. Were they still connected? Was someone watching from the other side? Was Dennis watching? Mac’s blood ran cold. He felt his breath start to accelerate. Before he knew what he was doing, he had pushed himself away from the table and was standing above his mother.

“Uh, I’m getting a new tattoo. Yeah, a big Jesus cross right on my chest.”

She rolled her eyes. “Shoulda known it was something stupid.”

“Yeah, for sure.”

Mac strode across the living room back to the front door. “Charlie! We’re leaving,” he called upstairs.

Charlie came barrelling down from the second floor. “Thank God, man,” he hissed.

Mac was already out the door when Charlie followed him, juggling a globe, a fake plant and a stuffed bear. He felt his pulse quicken, staring into the black lenses of the not-so-inconspicuous objects. He could almost feel the heavy gaze coming from the other side, invisible and unknown to him. For all he knew, there could be no one watching. But he wasn’t about to wage his day on a slim probability. “Come on, let’s go,” he mumbled.

They continued walking in silence after Mac offered to hold the globe. His heart was still pounding. He cursed his impulsivity. He knew his mother would be very caring and receptive to his news, but he wasn’t ready yet. He hadn’t even planned how he would tell her, which had quickly become obvious. Maybe Carmen was right, and he should wait a bit before telling more people. Dee knew now, not that that was any help to him.

“Hey Charlie, can I ask you something?”

“Sure man, shoot.”

He bit his lip and hesitated. “When you have news for your mom, h-how do you tell her?”

Charlie shot him a glance. “What kind of news?”

“Uh, anything.”

“I mean, I usually do my best to avoid her as much as possible. If there is something, I figure Frank will probably tell her. He’s over there often enough and he can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“Yeah, for sure…”

Charlie adjusted his hold on the plant and the bear in his arms and turned to look at Mac. “What’s this about, man?”

His eyes stayed firmly on the sidewalk in front of his feet. “S’ nothing.”

“Well, obviously it is something. What’s got you?”

Mac let his boot scuff against the ground. “There’s just something I want to tell my mom, but I don’t know how.”

“What is it?”

He started and looked up at Charlie’s expectant face. “Huh?”

“What’s the news?”

“Oh, I c-can’t tell you,” he mumbled.

“Okay, man.”

Mac walked for another few paces before blurting out, “It’s just, it’s really big news and I want my mom to know first. You know, because she raised me and she’s so caring and nurturing.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “Oh, well, dude. I totally get it.”

“You do?”

“Sure, man. Take your time, I’ll be here when you’re ready,” he said as he clapped Mac on the back.

They walked for a few more paces. “You know, Mac, I always thought you’d tell Dennis first.”

“Tell him what?”

“You know… your big news.”

“Why would I tell him? And you don’t even know what my news is, I don’t know what you’re imply—”

“Right, right. Forget I said anything.”

Their usual comfortable silence was gone, replaced by this palpable tension. Charlie glanced over again as he tried to lighten the mood.

“So. You think Dennis is still watching us through these?” he said with a laugh, holding up the plant.

“No! He better not be.”

“Jesus, okay dude.”

As they approached the bar, Mac realized Dennis would still be there. He pictured him sitting in the back office, laughing to himself as Mac failed to gain the courage to come out to his mom. He was calling him a coward and a loser behind his back, no doubt. Not only was he fucking gay, but he couldn’t even admit it to anyone. Some badass, he was. Mac shook his head to dispel the image from his mind.

“Hey Charlie, can you take this back? I have to go.”

Charlie struggled to carry all three encumbering items. “What, dude? We’re supposed to go clear out the pool some more after.”

“Yeah, I have to uh-, meeting a friend.”

“Bro, since when do you have any friends besides us?”

“Uh—”

“Dude! Where are you going?”

Charlie’s voice grew faint in his ears as he increased his pace, putting as much distance between him and the bar as quickly as he could. There was no way he was seeing Dennis like this. _Shit_. Charlie was right, he didn’t have any friends who weren’t already waiting for him at the bar. It was too late to go work out, his gym closed in half an hour and he didn’t feel like trying out a new one. Besides, he didn’t have his workout gear with him, and going back to Dee’s just meant he might run into Dennis there as well.

He kept walking where his feet carried him. The sun was gone now. All that remained now was a faint red glow above the obscured horizon. The light seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat. A car honked, causing his to flinch. Everything was becoming too loud, too bright, too strong, too much. His thighs started to burn. Glancing down, he realized he was almost running down the sidewalk. He slowed down a bit and tried to even out his breaths. Closed his eyes. Slowed to a stop. Felt the chilling breeze over his bared arms.

And then he was still walking. Anywhere, it didn’t matter. Before he realized, he was nearly in Center City. So many faces flashed by in his periphery, but he refused to meet their eyes. He kept his gaze trained firmly on the ground, absentmindedly counting the pairs of shoes walking past him. _31 blue, 48 black, 18 brown, 7 red—shit—31 blue, 49 black, 19 brown, 7 red…_ Anything to distract him from the one person he didn’t want to see. Those eyes that cut through his heart and pierced his soul. He tried his best to swallow around the lump lodged in his throat. He barely noticed as his pace increased.

When he got to one hundred pairs of black shoes, he stopped and looked up. A familiar façade and rainbow mural beckoned him inside. He wasn’t the only one there, but it was nowhere near as packed as the last time he had visited. Keeping his head low, he pulled up to the bar and sat heavily on the stool. A bartender pulled up and he ordered two shots. He downed them as soon as they were slid across the counter, the bartender’s eyebrows flicking up a little at the sight. He ordered two more shots and a beer, hunching forward to block the world out.

After about an hour, the volume in the room started to climb. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed the place was quite crowded. The dance floor was already overrun with college twinks in crop tops, despite the cool autumn night air outside. Their squeals ground against his ear drums. He turned back to his beer—who knew how many he had had, at this point—and did his best to focus on the slow rise of the bubbles to the top. There were significantly less now than twenty minutes ago, when he had first received the drink.

Another round of cheers from the dance floor drew his attention back again just in time to see the DJ fire the glitter cannon into the crowd. _Fuck, not this again._ Rainbow glitter particles fluttered down, affixing themselves to his shirt. He ducked back over onto the bar, keeping his head down. This had been a stupid plan. A gay bar was not the place to get wasted in a discreet way at all. Anyone in here might recognize him from Paddy’s, or know Carmen, or even Dee for that matter. Did she ever come to places like these? The music was too loud, the lights were too bright, you got glitter fucking everywhere for days afterward, the drinks were overpriced. Why the hell would anyone ever come— _Oh fuck, that’s why._

The man had absolutely no right being that stunning. He had an effortless way about him as he pulled up next to him and sat down. Everything about the man just _flowed_ , from his wavy dark hair to the muscles rippling faintly beneath his dark green sweater. The man looked out of place in an establishment such as this, although he was a welcome change from the young crowd behind them both. The new arrival flicked his eyes over to him and gave him a small nod.

“I’ve never seen you here, are you new in town?”

“Uh, not really. New to the… scene, I guess though.”

“I see.” The man smiled. “Welcome to the crowd then. Tony,” he said, extended a hand.

“I’m, uh—” He froze.

“Oh, that’s fine. We don’t need to do names. What are you drinking?” He watched Tony pull his hand back and set it on the bar, sliding closer to his own.

“Jus’ beer.”

“Just beer? Let’s get something a little stronger, so you can be properly welcomed.” Tony flagged down the bartender, who returned with two whiskeys.

“Cheers to you,” said Tony, as they clinked their glasses together.

“So, what do you do for a living?”

“I work security at a bar down on Second Street.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I take on kind of a sheriff role.”

“It must be really safe down there,” Tony said with a grin. “I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble when you’re around.”

He blushed and felt a smile creep onto his face. “Yeah, I keep a pretty tight ship.”

“Looks like it’s not the only thing you’re keeping tight,” said Tony, letting his eyes wander all over the body in front of him.

“I could say the same for you.” He leaned in, sliding his hand to make contact with Tony’s on the bar. The man grinned and paused to finish his drink.

“And what about you?”

“What?”

“What do you do for work?”

Tony leaned in and turned his head towards him. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I said what do you for work?” he repeated, doing his best to shape the words around the alcohol in his system.

“You know, this isn’t really the best place to… get to know each other.”

“Yeah, no kidding. It’s loud as shit.”

Tony leaned forward to place a hand on the other man’s knee. “How about we find somewhere a little quieter?”

“Sure, when? I’m a little busy the next few days—”

“No, no. I meant tonight.”

“Tonight? I mean, I’m not really in the mood to go to a different bar, it must be cold out—”

“Jesus, I’m inviting you back to my place. Do you want to come or not?”

He blinked. “Oh! Sure. Yeah.”

***

This hadn’t been his intention when he’d stormed away from Charlie a few hours ago. Or maybe he’d had an inkling he’d end up in a situation like this. Maybe he wanted this. Maybe he needed this.

Tony’s hands had been reaching further across his shoulders the whole way in the cab. The driver had kept her eyes on the road, but he certainly hadn’t. He couldn’t stop gazing at this statuesque man riding with him, getting closer, getting closer.

_What the fuck am I doing?_

Panic jumped into his throat. He jolted forward, trying to get a glimpse of where they were. Tony’s arm fell behind him.

“Hey, everything okay?”

He glanced over, eyes wide. “Yeah, yeah. All good.”

“Are you sure? You seem a little edgy. I can drop you off somewher—”

“No, no. We’re going, it’s fine.”

***

Tony’s hands were on his hips. His hands were in the man’s hair, waves of deep brown. He was sure he was getting glitter into Tony’s hair, and he was sure it was smearing onto him as well. Glitter was a force to be reckoned with.

The man’s mouth was on his. Soft and firm, gentle and insistent. His stomach felt heavy in his body. But this was good. This was so much better than any of the women he’d ever been with. His skin tingled with electricity as Tony’s thumb caught a strip of bare skin above his waist. Strong, firm hands that could pin him into a mattress and hold him there for however long they wanted. The thought renewed a spark in the pit of his stomach, and he pressed forward into the man’s arms.

A hand moved up, under his shirt, across his chest. Nails raked against his skin, causing a chill to run down his back. He dug his fingers further into the man’s hair, tugging with renewed fervour. He could have all of this. It was at his fingertips. _And all I have to do is get my ass out of the closet_. Such an easy thing to say.

He felt a pressure sliding from his knee up his thigh, inching closer. He could feel his heart rate increase rapidly, could feel it against the lips that were locked with his own. All that mattered now was the two of them. Only the two of them, the rest of the world melted away. No judgmental bartender, no screaming college kids, no Charlie, no Frank, no Den—

He pulled back suddenly, face frozen in terror.

“Everything good?” asked Tony, rubbing small circles on his bare shoulder.

“I, I just—”

“Hey, we can take a break if you want to.”

“No, let’s keep going, it’s—”

He looked up and met the man’s eyes. His blue eyes. _The same blue as—_

He leapt up from the couch and nearly tripped as he stumbled backwards.

“Whoa, are you alright?” Tony asked, leaning forward.

He scrambled as he tried to regain his footing. “I gotta go, I can’t—”

“Hey, it’s okay. I get it, you’re new—”

“—too much, I have to leave—”

“If you ever change your mind—”

“I’m sorry, I gotta—”

“—call me.”

His words were still echoing off the walls as he rushed out the door, letting it slam behind him. A million thoughts blazed through his mind while he ran down the stairs and burst onto the road. A million pictures, a million memories of one face. The one he couldn’t escape, that he never wanted to live without.

It was taunting him again. Sure, he had gotten hit on by a super hot guy, but he hadn’t been able to act on anything. He could hear Dennis’ voice mocking him, bragging about all the hot chicks he could get. He tried to push the thought away, push them all away as he lengthened his stride down the now-deserted city streets.

The buildings above him curled in over his head. They were seconds away from completely collapsing and burying him under a pile of rubble. He blinked. The buildings stood straight and tall, as they always had.

The sound of clapping surged to the forefront of his mind. He whipped around to get a look behind him, only to be met with the cool emptiness of the night air. The noise continued. Startled, he looked down to see his feet pounding against the pavement. He slowed his run to a jog. The sound vanished.

This was insane. He was losing his mind. This was completely irrational to react this way, to run out of that guy’s apartment for what, the colour of his eyes? Just because they reminded him of Dennis, someone who should not be provoking this kind of reaction. Dennis was his best friend, his roommate of twenty years, his rock since high school…

The world started spinning beneath his feet. He lowered himself to the ground to sit on the curb, head in his hands. He tried to focus his attention to his feet, but the thoughts kept whirling and whirling.

Late nights like this one, stumbling through the streets with arms wrapped over shoulders. The problems of high school and shitty parents melt away. The chorus of their laughs echo off the glass buildings that tower above them. A chilling breeze sends a shiver down their backs. Their eyes meet and they laugh, drawing each other closer. They are alone together in this world.

They spend all night walking. Sometimes, when words fail them, they just walk. Hands now by their sides, brushing together too often, but not enough to mention. The silence is a pact between them. Dew settles around them like a blanket, a universal promise of a new day to come.

They end up at the river by morning. The sun always seems eager to rise from beyond the water. The first few minutes never fail to enchant them. They sit in silence and watch the light bask the city in a haze of orange and pink. And if their fingers brush together a few times, they don’t say anything. And if their hands creep together between them, they don’t say anything. There is nothing to say. The sunrise is an event removed from time. Life is suspended for a few moments from one day to the next. Everything is understood when time stands still. One shared look is all it takes.

The memory hit him like a punch to the gut. Leaning back, he let himself fall back and lay across the sidewalk. Pebbles pressed into his back and gristle from the street scraped against his outstretched arms. He squinted into the sky, trying to see the stars. Nothing. Only the skyscrapers peering down at him. It was easy to feel lost in the city at times like these.

He could see his chest rise and fall under his laboured breathing. What had started out as a soft whine slowly built up to a roar in his ears. His head was being crushed in a clamp that was tightening with every second, never letting go. He tried sitting back up, only to be flooded with a wave of nausea.

Desperate, he reached for his phone in his back pocket. He fumbled, nearly dropping it in his lap. The screen was blurry. The whole world was blurry. He had barely enough strength to unlock his phone, dismiss the text notifications, and flick through his recent calls list. He held the phone to his ear and waited for the familiar voice to answer.

_“You’ve reached Carmen, sorry I can’t come to the phone right now. Leave a message!”_

Bullshit. His fist tightened around his phone, rage overtaking his body. He threw the device into the road. It clattered onto the street a few feet away. He spread his arms out again and let out a wordless roar, feeling his body sink into the concrete surface. He kept his eyes closed to stop the spinning.

A pain in his palms cause him to open his hands. Half-moon indents were dug into the skin. He hadn’t even realized he had been clenching his fists that hard. Dazed, he sat up and looked around for his phone. This couldn’t be right. Maybe she just didn’t have time to reach her phone. Maybe she was just waking up still.

He leaned over to pick up his phone. The screen wasn’t broken, but the glass had a significant scratch from one corner to another. Biting the inside of his cheek to ground himself, he hit the number again and held the phone up to his ear.

It rang.

Rang again.

Kept ringing.

_“You’ve reach—”_

Hung up. Redialed.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

_“You’ve—”_

Again.

_“You—”_

Again.

_“Y—”_

The phone was in the road again. Pain shot up through his jaw, but at least it was dulling the sting behind his eyes. His breath was getting louder, louder, faster, uncontrollable. A dark cloud began to furiously envelop his mind. How could she do this to him?

How could she not answer? Of all people, she knew what he was going through. She knew how hard this was for him. She couldn’t just ignore him like this. He collapsed to the ground, pushed down by an invisible weight on his shoulders. The noise from his gritted teeth and clenched jaw echoed through his skull, but there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Fine. He could do this by himself. He hadn’t needed anyone since he was nine years old, he sure as hell didn’t need anyone now. The silence of the night closed in around him. A distant laughter bounced inside his head, seemingly coming from all directions at once.

He pushed himself off the ground, fuming. Picking a direction at random, he started down the block with a driving pace. He swatted harshly at a bush near the road, allowing the branches to lacerate his hand. This wasn’t right. She couldn’t do this to him. She knew what he was like on nights like this. Of course, he could handle it on his own, but how dare she ignore him. This is what she signed up for when she picked up the phone that first time, goddamn it.

A rustling noise startled him out of his spiral. He glanced sharply at the cluster of garbage cans beside him to see a raccoon scurry away. Before he even knew what he was doing, he kicked the bin and sent it sprawling across the alley. Garbage scattered everywhere, a plastic bag taking off on a gust of wind. He watched it float and bounce down the street, eventually carried away into the air by a stronger current.

He stopped and turned to look around him. The sky was beginning to lighten, and the street was still empty. He had no clue where he was. Of course, this was how this night was going. Alone in the dark with no idea how to get himself out. He kept walking, kicking at anything in his path. The empty space beside him on the sidewalk felt like a black hole sucking him in. He never used to be alone on nights like this.

Faces and emotions cascaded through his mind. He was alone, they had betrayed him, they should be here, why weren’t they here, how could they do this to him—

He stopped and gasped in a deep breath, leaning down to brace his hands on his knees. It was useless dwelling on these emotions. He knew that as long as he kept walking, he would keep getting sucked down into the dangerous spiral that had manifested in his mind. Glancing up the street, he noticed a large set of steps ahead. If anything, it would give him a place to sit for a while and clear his head. He picked up a beer can from the ground and drop-kicked it into the road as he made his way towards the steps.

The stone was cold beneath him. A few pigeons were poking around a flower patch nearby. He lifted his gaze and was met by the piercing glow of the sunrise, finally revealing itself over the city skyline. A certain thickness in the air was lifted, taking with it a weight he hadn’t even noticed. He was suspended in time, alone.

On the ground, a patch of pink and orange light danced gracefully across the stone. Turning around, he found the source of the display: a rose window gleaming between the two soaring spires of a Catholic church. Magnets in his boots lifted him up and drew him to the center door.

It was unlocked. Hesitant, he pulled it open and glanced inside. One person was inside, a dishevelled old man sleeping in a pew near the back of the sanctuary. He stepped into the church, flinching silently at the resounding clang of the closing door. Was he even supposed to be here? The service must still be at least four hours away.

Pushing aside his worry, he dragged himself to a pew off to the side of the church, tucked into a small nook. He reached down to lower the kneeler, settling into position with his hands folded together on the back of the pew in front of him. His head hung low, his eyes firmly trained on the ground. He could feel the heavy and fixed gaze of the figure on the cross at the front of the church. Pinning him to the floor with its eyes of judgement.

He choked on a gasp and leaned heavily on the pew. He shouldn’t be here. This was absolutely the worst place he could come to at a time like this. His heartbeat felt like it was ready to jump out of his skin at any moment.

 _No_. He was allowed to be here. Regardless of past behaviour, this was where he had always turned to for answers, and he was in desperate need of answers now. God had never failed him before.

_Well, except for on the ship…_

That was ridiculous, if there was anyone who never abandoned those he cared about, it was for sure God. This was all a test. Of course it was. That’s why they’d all been rescued seconds before their death. Did that mean he had proved himself worthy? It didn’t feel that way from where he was sitting.

A yawn interrupted his thoughts. Maybe if he stretched out a little bit… He glanced at his phone. _5:42 a.m._ Still plenty of time before anyone got here. Yawning again, he swung his legs up onto the pew and tried to make himself comfortable against the unyielding wood. Just thirty minutes or so… that’s all he needed…

***

The clanging of a metal door awoke him from his sleep. Thoroughly disoriented, he sat up and glanced at his surroundings. _Right, the church._ Searching for the source of the sound, he spotted a man with white hair at the front preparing what looked like the elements for communion. For a man his age, he certainly looked like he had a great deal of purpose in his step.

Attempting in vain to stifle a yawn, he turned his attention to the rest of the building as he stretched out his arms. The old man from before had already left. The enormous wooden crucifix still dominated the hall, although it looked a little less threatening in the daylight.

He rubbed his eyes to shake the sleep away and noticed the man approaching him. “Ah, you’re finally awake!”

He froze with what must have been a look of terror on his face.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” the man laughed as he sat in the pew in front of him. “You’re absolutely welcome to come in from the cold.”

He stared at the man, unsure of what to say. The man seemed to notice his reluctance and extended a hand.

“I’m Father Tom. What brings you to St. Michael’s, other than the roof?” He chuckled.

He shook the priest’s hand and slid his own into his pockets. “Uh, answers. I guess.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place, my son!” He laughed again. “Anything in particular I can help you with today?”

“No, no…” he heard his own voice trail off, almost disconnected from his body. “There’s a lot of stuff, or mainly just this one thing. I don’t know.”

Father Tom nodded. “You don’t have to share yet if you’re not ready. When you are, feel free to come see me anytime.” He flashed him a wide smile. “You know where I work.”

He gave a small nod, oblivious to the attempted humour. The priest clapped his shoulder and stood to lean against the back of the pew. “Service starts in about half an hour, you’re of course welcome to stay if you’d like. There should be more people showing up soon, although this congregation are usually a little on the late side. We’ll leave being early to the Presbyterians.” He gave him a small wink and headed back into his office to don his robes.

He slid down into the pew and tried to make himself small as he waited out the thirty-five minutes. Slowly, people started trickling in. A couple in their seventies tried squeezing into his pew, but quickly left as he glared at them. He must look like death, he realized. _Whatever, it’s not me they’re here for._

Eventually, the doors in the back were closed and the procession of the elements marched to the front. Father Tom’s voice was just emphatic enough to keep him from completely dozing off, but after a few minutes, his attention started to wander again.

As he stood and sat for the third time in as many minutes, he felt himself relax and settle into the familiar rhythm of the service. This is what he truly loved about Catholicism. No matter where you went, you could count on it to always be the same. Never changing. And even though nobody ever sang well, he admitted there was a certain cathartic element to sharing a song with strangers. This wasn’t about performing, for once.

The homily was always the most boring part of the service. Sitting still for twenty minutes while some guy at the front repeated the same words he’d been hearing for the past forty years. A few pews ahead of him, a ten-year old was gradually nodding off, barely grazing her mother’s shoulder.

“Now this letter to the Ephesians is a call to action as much as it is a call for unity,” the priest continued. “We read here in chapter 4 that the author is asking them to cast off their old lives and leave behind their old...”

Sitting there, he realized he hadn’t checked in with anyone since he had left Charlie on that sidewalk the previous evening. Doing his best to be discreet, he slipped his phone out of his pocket and flicked through the texts he had dismissed earlier. Mostly Charlie panicking about where he was—he assumed it was panicking based purely on the progression of the emojis from yellow to orange to red in the multiple texts Charlie had sent—although there were a few from an increasingly concerned Dee as well.

“…they had been living apart from God, hiding from him in their actions. Although, as the author points out in verse 17, it was really their mindset and their way of thinking that started them down the wrong path and…”

Nothing from Dennis. Of course.

“…says here: ‘Having lost all sensitivity, they have given themselves over to sensuality so as to indulge in every kind of impurity, and they are full of greed.’ Brothers and sisters, we must be selfless in our…”

Not that he cared if Dennis had texted him. He really didn’t.

“…is calling for them to seek out the Lord instead of the pursuits of the flesh. He will…”

Maybe it bothered him a little.

“…tells us again and again that to be reborn, we cannot continue down the same path. In God’s eyes, the two are mutually exclusive. You can’t say you’re sober if you still get drunk every weekend. Change is necessary in order to…”

It was probably for the best Dennis hadn’t texted him after all. He would have just made fun of him for running off to a gay bar again. So predictable. The closet case who tells himself that as long as his eyes are closed, he’s still behind the safety of the doors.

“…but we’re told that this ‘is not the way of life you learned when you heard about Christ and were taught in accordance…’”

So many mistakes.

“…because our truth is found in Him alone…”

Although it hadn’t really been an accident. He had wanted this to happen. He’d sought it out.

“‘You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires…’”

He’d be an idiot not to recognize the pattern that had been emerging. It was clear he wanted this.

“‘…to be made new in the attitude of your minds…’”

So what if he let himself consider it from time to time? Being out. There must be a certain freedom to it.

“‘…and to put on the new self…’”

Carmen and Dee already knew. He might as well just do it.

“‘…created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.’ Which is why we cannot continue to live in sin. We must cast off our old life to be born anew. Consider this your wake-up call. If there is anything the Lord despises, it is people who knowingly and willingly pursue sinful lives.”

He lifted his gaze to the front of the church. The priest was standing perfectly still, white hands gripping the pulpit. A red face to match the words echoing through the sanctuary.

“God is yelling at you to wake up! Examine your life! There is no simpler way to say this: you absolutely cannot consciously live a life of sin and call yourself a Christian. There must be repentance in order to receive forgiveness. God is not going to toss you down some forgiveness; you have to ask for it.”

The room was getting warmer. The walls began shaking.

“He tells us: ‘In your anger do not sin: Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry.’ And why is that, brothers and sisters? Because by letting our guard down, the author tells us that we ‘give the devil a foothold’. When we allow doubt to creep in, we make ourselves victims ripe for the taking.”

Any second, the ceiling would collapse and trap him underneath it. Sealing him in the foundation forever.

“This call for unity extends to all of us. We must be accountable for our neighbours, not only for ourselves. When we see a fellow child of God faltering, it is our duty and our obligation as followers of Jesus to…”

There was fire all around. The sweat pooling in his neck would never put it out.

“…but before we can judge others, we must first judge ourselves. None of us are deserving of His grace. We all know exactly how we are failing him.”

The air grew thick. He looked back up to the pulpit, momentarily shocked to be met by the priest’s penetrating stare. Harsh eyes pinning him in place. Unrelenting. He felt his soul tighten. His heart folded in on itself until it was cowering behind his ribs.

And then he was standing. The magnets in his boots pushed him back, further back until he nearly out the door. The full weight of the ceiling crashed down onto his body just as he stumbled out onto the front steps.

Gasping for breath, he collapsed onto the stone. Ribbons of red, black, and white thrashed across his vision and into the back of his skull. The sound of a car honking nearby scraped harshly against his ears.

Distantly, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He retrieved it with a shaking hand, pausing to glance at the picture of the woman on the screen before answering.

“What?” he half-shouted into the phone.

“Whoa, Mac,” Carmen started. “What’s going on? I woke up to five missed calls from you.”

“Well it doesn’t matter now, does it? You weren’t there and all that is over now anyway.” The hard plastic of the phone case dug into Mac’s skin.

Carmen’s voice sounded thin from the other side. “Mac, I’ve had a fever all week. I’ve been in bed for four days and I’m on so much medication that I’m sleeping for fourteen hours a night.”

“And?” he grunted.

“What do you mean, ‘and’?”

“Is that supposed to be an excuse?” Mac flinched.

“ _Excuse_ me?” The anger jumped in her voice, increasing the rasp in her throat. “I know I’ve been there for you at some pretty unusual times of the night, but I literally could not have answered you last night.”

“Then what am I supposed to do then, huh?” Mac demanded. “Just put my problems on hold until you decide it’s convenient for you again?”

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “How did you picture this going on long term? If you really needed someone last night, you could have called someone else.”

“You know damn well there’s no one else I could have called,” he spat.

“What about Dee? She obviously understands, I’ve been telling you this for weeks now!”

“As if. She’d just end up using whatever I tell her for blackmail.”

Mac heard Carmen pause and take a deep breath. “Listen. Jus’… It’s not just last night. I’ve been trying really hard to help you build your network of support. You can’t just rely on me, Mac. I have my life and I can’t always be there.”

“Oh, you have a life?” he sneered. “You can’t fit a pathetic loser into your perfect life? Jesus fuck, if I knew that from the beginning, I wouldn’t have called you in the first place!”

“Mac—”

“Just shut the fuck up! If you’re trying to push me away that badly, I’ll save you the trouble. If you really hate me this much, I can guarantee you’ll never hear from me again.”

Mac ended the call, longing for the days when he could have slammed the receiver into the cradle. Instead, he sank to the steps in felt himself empty into the ground. There was nothing left.

High above, the bells began to toll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with this! Adjusting to life back in school has been difficult, but I somehow found time to write this absolute monster of a chapter. Hopefully the feelings of dissociation and loss of self came through, I know this is pretty different than what I've written so far.
> 
> Thanks to inaudiblemon and macdenniskiss on tumblr for helping me out with this chapter.
> 
> Come find me on tumblr, I'm [its-always-philly-in-sunidelphia](https://its-always-philly-in-sunidelphia.tumblr.com/) as always :)


End file.
